


The Reporter and the Detective

by Valkirin



Series: The Adventures of Lois Lane and Friends [2]
Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Just accept it DC you can't make all people happy all the time, Let's face it basically all DC stories are AU unless you retcon every two weeks, Team Up, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:58:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9610490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valkirin/pseuds/Valkirin
Summary: After a full day with Superman (and Clark) missing in action, it only takes a few ninjas lurking around Lois's apartment for her to realize it's time to get out of Metropolis. She might have drifted toward one of her usual contacts if Superman hadn't left her a note. It's kind of him to leave her a hunk of kryptonite and a person to contact, really, but with Superman in trouble, what is a Gotham billionaire supposed to do to help?





	1. The Butler and the Billionaire

**Author's Note:**

> _This story's timeline doesn't fit with any particular DC continuity anymore but was strongly influenced by animated series and a few comics I especially like. My heartfelt thanks to[Kayasurin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayasurin/pseuds/Kayasurin) and [TheDoktor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDoktor/pseuds/TheDoktor) for help with several of the trickier scenes. I started this entire story with the goal of Lois Lane and Batman teaming up and built the rest from there._

“Good afternoon. You have reached Bruce Wayne’s personal telephone line.” 

Even through the phone, the slight shifts in tone of the cultured British voice on the other end of the line made it perfectly clear that she was an unreasonable creature for calling the unlisted number, but all without any detail of the verbal dismissal was significant enough for her to comment on. Someday she might ask where she could sign up for lessons, someday when her heart wasn’t all the way up in her throat. 

“I apologize for ignoring protocol, sir, but I would strongly appreciate the chance to leave a message for Mr. Wayne without going through Wayne Enterprises,” she replied with the polite efficiency best learned by listening to a professional receptionist sorting out the few genuine callers from an entire morning of charlatans all trying to bluster their way past the calm-faced gatekeeper of the CEO’s schedule. Lois tended to bypass these stalwart guardians with well-placed flattery and the occasional cappucino, but her usual targets weren’t protecting Bruce Wayne’s home telephone line. “This is a personal matter and I know that the company records phone calls.” 

“There is no guarantee that I will not, miss.” 

“If you record calls, sir, I would expect that very few people have access to that recording, or at least I would guess—pardon me, I swear that I can put together very coherent sentences any other day of my life.” _Pull yourself together, woman_. “My partner left me a message suggesting that I should call Mr. Wayne if I found myself in trouble.” There. Straight to the insane point that led to her calling Bruce Wayne’s telephone number as if he was some kind of protector-for-hire.

“Just what manner of partner would this be?” 

_If you have this wrong, Kent… well, we’ll both be in more trouble than we are right now_. “This is Lois Lane from the Daily Planet. Clark Kent is my partner in the bullpen, and he left a note stating that Mr. Wayne would be willing to help out if I had some trouble. Turns out I do have some trouble and I could use a little backup.” That wasn’t enough, but if he had left more than a single sentence maybe she could know just how long Kent had been buddies with a Gotham billionaire. “Kent’s a… Clark is a super guy.” 

_Please, Kent. Tell me I read your crazy-cryptic hidden message right or I might have just ruined everything, because if the kryptonite just_ happened _to be wrapped in the note telling me Bruce Wayne was my best port in a storm, I am going to break my foot kicking you._

The British man on the other end of the phone had no ready reply, which was probably for the best, because she really thought she had been oblique enough where not just anyone would catch her meaning. Or it could be horrible, because he’d already known, and she’d just confirmed it, and now she and Kent were both goners.

“Mr. Wayne hasn’t heard anything from Mr. Kent for several days,” the British man said evenly. She heard shock in the sharpened diction just as clearly as if he’d dropped the phone. “Perhaps you can come by the house to discuss this. By area code, it seems you are in Gotham, and if it is not too direct, I would be pleased to send you a car.” 

Trust your instincts, she’d always told Kent, and she’d always ran full-speed after a story. Kent’s note said Wayne and her instincts said that the British man was an acceptable risk.

“I would be pleased at the chance to avoid a Gotham taxi,” Lois replied, matching the man’s bland tone. She could get herself out of all the danger she went and found when she was looking for a story. She wasn’t completely confident what reporter skills had against Superman’s sort of trouble. “There’s a coffee shop two storefronts to the west. Java and Sympathy, I doubt that’s a chain. I have a short black coat and a brown leather briefcase.” 

“Thank you. Miss Lane, a town car will pick you up from the stoop with the code phrase of asking whether you are on your way to the circus. It seems all too appropriate today.” He paused, as if to bring himself back to his British dignity, and Lois breathed with him. “Twenty minutes? I can have someone else at that location sooner, if desired, but I would prefer to give you the chance to collect yourself,” he said kindly. “Also, I quite agree that your partner is a superb man, one whose assistance at certain tasks has been very much missed in Gotham.” 

She couldn’t force her throat to form ‘thank you,’ but it seemed that he understood all the same. She had similar luck at the coffee shop. She barely could nod thanks when a sympathetic barista took one look at her and interpreted Lane’s rough ‘coffee, please’ as signal to make an artistic concoction loaded with caramel and whole milk and chocolate syrups under and over a mound of whipped cream. Lois, who on better days turned up her nose at anything but black coffee and lots of it, left a twenty-dollar bill in the woman’s hand and took a seat near the wall, facing the window. 

She tossed the emptied cup in the trashcan and nodded to the barista when a black Mercedes sedan with a discreet Wayne Enterprises insignia on the door parked just across the street from the coffee shop. If this was the wrong car, Lois wanted someone to remember her well enough to talk to the police, however vague the description would be. Gotham was home to any number of dark-haired women in dark peacoats. Even better for the hypothetical police report, a dark-haired young man in a rumpled white button-down shirt and dark-wash jeans exited during a break in traffic to stand in front of the car.

He couldn’t be past twenty-five, an odd age for someone driving a company car while wearing denim, but he looked calm even with the occasional car zipping within a foot of him. He touched two fingers to an invisible driver’s cap when she stepped out of the coffee shop. “On the way to your circus, ma’am?” he asked loudly enough for the words to carry across the street. 

She dodged one particularly aggressive taxi before she responded. “I just might run away to the circus permanently,” Lois replied tiredly. Spending a week and a half constantly on high alert had drained her, and she could almost rest. She had talked through a confirmed phone line with someone from Bruce Wayne’s home, now here was someone with the right vocal passcode and a Wayne Enterprises car. She shook her head slightly when he began to make the chivalrous move to open the door for her.

Lois opened the rear driver’s side door herself. It was hardest for people to grab someone sitting directly behind them, as she knew from long experience, and opening the door herself put a relatively solid barrier between them and gave her time to see if the child-safety lock was engaged. Downfall by engaged child-safety lock was not the way she was planning to go. Jumpy thugs always tried to kick the door at her, forgetting that car doors had a very long axis even if they kicked at the outside edge. That left plenty of time to jump back, get out of the way, or (just once, honestly, but Jimmy told that story constantly and not just because he’d had his camera ready) roll underneath the car and pop up running.

Lois sank into the well-cushioned back seat of the car. Child safety lock off, the power windows were not under driver control, no partition between driver and passengers, the weight of her briefcase sinking into her seat didn’t reveal any impressions of surprises under the upholstery, and there weren’t any of the standard gas-dispensers—it would do. She pulled the door closed and gave her seatbelt a cursory glance before buckling herself in. 

Her driver looked impressed with her checks, if anything, because of course whoever the man at the house sent would read just what her dawdling actually was. “Running away to the circus isn’t that bad of an option, but I’m a bit biased there,” he said as he settled into the driver’s seat. “Just as long as you don’t mind the clowns, that is. Spend enough time in Gotham and you never want to see another clown in your life.” 

That would merit a sharp little smile on a better day, she thought, but all she could manage was a nod. “Understandable. I get irrationally angry with bald men on occasion.” 

He grinned at her reflection in the rear-view mirror. “I’d shake your hand, but I have a feeling we all want to get to business as soon as inhumanly possible here.” He eased the sedan out of the tight parallel parking spot with ease and wonder of wonders had no difficulty in some of Gotham’s nastiest traffic. “Any bags?” 

“Bags?” she asked. For once, coffee hadn’t done the trick, but she supposed the last beverage had probably had far more sugar than caffeine. Next time, black coffee it was. 

“Luggage, suitcases… I’m not sure how long you’ve been in the area, but it’d be easier if we combined trips. Boss-man’s still in a meeting that won’t wrap for at least ten minutes but he has better traffic. He’ll probably beat us out of town.” He glanced into the rear-view mirror again. His eyes were blue enough to bring Clark’s to mind.

“If you’re not ready to trust me just yet, I understand, but what I have in the trunk might convince you—oh hell that sounded bad,” her driver blurted, blue eyes very, very wide. “Sorry. I never get to do this kind of stuff on my own, not the talk-to-people-nicely stuff, and now I’m botching this and so much for trying again. I just meant that my laptop is in the back, and one time when your partner was in town a friend was playing camera-man, so I have a picture of me and Clark. Or—um—well but I think you already know the rest? Um.” 

At the end of his monologue, delivered in one breathless rush, she couldn’t hold back the near-hysterical anxiety she had been keeping relentlessly at bay for eleven days. To her relief, it came out in laughter instead of tears, but the poor man looked even more nervous and then she only laughed harder. By the time she could calm herself, she had laughed so hard that she had tears running down her face, and the man looked even more terrified. It stood to reason. Even some of America’s most hardened business moguls and supervillains had a moment of sustained panic if they saw a woman cry. The twenty-five year old stood no chance.

“Everything I brought with me is right here,” Lois said in reply to his earlier question, tapping the battered briefcase at her side. “I am honored by the invitation, really, and I had planned to abuse all the hospitality I could find.” 

He did have a very nice smile, she noted approvingly, and he was quick to let go of any embarrassment. “That’ll be a lot, promise. Alfred is already despairing that you have nicer manners than any of us—he’s the man you spoke with on the phone. Alfred Pennyworth, butler, only person that keeps Wayne Manor running. And speaking of my awful manners, nice to meet you, I’m Dick Grayson.”

“Lois Lane.” She had a guess or two, given his age, but she felt she had been quite rude enough without asking if her driver was Wayne’s son. She hadn’t paid all that much attention to Wayne’s personal life back in Metropolis and while she had been on the run with very few resources to her name it hadn’t been worth the risk. “Chiefly known for getting nabbed out of freefall by Superman, but I’m honestly not thrown off buildings that often.” 

“A few friends of Clark’s have had an eye out for you. You got off the grid pretty fast,” he said admiringly. “So yeah, we’re guessing you’ve got more than occasional interrupted falls off tall things going for you. And that you maybe figured out where Clark’s doing his moonlighting.” 

“I’ve gone through every story in Kent’s docket and four that he only had kept hand-written notes on. It’s not his civilian life this time.” Trusting anyone after days on the run was hard but Kent had been sure about Bruce Wayne, and calling Bruce Wayne’s personal line had gotten her Mr. Blue Eyes. She had to trust Clark on this and presume Superman’s disappearance wasn’t related to Bruce Wayne. Presumptions made her cranky. “I worked out his second full-time job for myself about a week before he vanished on me.”

“So you’re working with Superman,” Dick said, glancing into the mirror again. “Heck of a time to put it together, the entire League hasn’t managed to track him down yet. I know Supes well enough that a few mutual acquaintances are keeping me in the loop and letting me do some gofer work around Gotham.” 

This just might work out after all, if Clark had sent her on to someone that possibly had the Justice League on speed-dial, let alone someone that looked at all the spandex and brawn and called him ‘Supes.’ “He hadn’t gotten around to many details yet,” Lois replied. Confidence was the key here, she needed contacts she didn’t have in her rotary and she did not need testosterone-driven protectiveness getting in the way of direct contact with new potential sources. “Kent didn’t tell me anything, actually, but I had suspicions and turns out I’m an alright investigator. He left the clue to call Bruce Wayne somewhere I would only look if it was time to get out of Dodge.” 

He nodded without turning away from the road. “We’re heading to home base. Wayne Manor has enough spare bedrooms to work as a bed-and-breakfast if that’s what we need and pretty solid security. At least when it’s not dinner party season.” 

Lois half-smiled at the qualification. She wasn’t sure how anyone in Gotham could manage to put on heirloom jewels and head out for a night of stuffy conversation and fussy appetizers knowing just how many dinner parties would be interrupted by the Rogues and then Batman himself. She was a fan of crime-stopping, sure, but didn’t have much desire to get a Gotham Rogue’s party favors on a cocktail dress. “Gotham City is the only town that could convince me to be a society writer, that’s for sure, but I have enough going on in Metropolis and in corporate that I leave your gossip for what it is.” 

Dick’s phone beeped. The single beep was at a high, strident pitch that would not be ignored. He glared down at the phone in his cupholder, braced upright in the folds of a discarded navy tie. “Answer,” he said curtly. A moment later, the phone let out a much meeker beep. “This is Dick.”

“Change of plans,” an irritated baritone on the other line said curtly. “Pick me up at the executive parking garage.” 

Dick sighed expansively and managed to sneak across two lanes of snarled Gotham traffic more easily than some people turned on their windshield wipers. “I am like the least efficient taxi driver ever,” he muttered. 

“Wayne out,” was the only reply from the phone, followed by a click as the phone disconnected. 

Lois might not be the first source on Gotham gossip, politics, or local economics, but she and the rest of the media world had heard speeches from Bruce Wayne. A few of the economics boys tried to draw her into looking through the multitudes of accounts about Wayne’s rumored prowess in the bedroom. They stopped that cold when she prepared a full report about their rumored prowess in the bedroom, in exquisite tabloid format, complete with pictures and graphs and splash-quotes. Since then, all Finance asked her was what she thought about merger and stock-related rumors. She had a passing interest in the boardroom and that was it, even before she had her eye on someone she’d never gotten along all that well with people that couldn’t talk about much outside of quarterly projections. Clark had sent her to Wayne, though, so she could at least attempt to refrain from drawing blood with the hellos. 

In classic Clark Kent understatement, the note had been a neatly folded slip of receipt-paper tucked beside a glowing green rock that fit nicely in her fist. She was working on the assumption that the daft man had left her a sizeable amount of kryptonite fitted neatly into a lead-lined box. _If I can’t protect you, your favorite stuffed shirt will._

The executive parking garage for Wayne Enterprises did have a clever enough security setup, she supposed, but she didn’t find any special touches that explained just why Clark would pick Bruce Wayne of everyone in the world—why Superman would, more likely, but she’d only had six days to try reconciling Clark Kent and Superman before he managed to skip around nearly every trick she kept in rotation for Kent-watch and apparently the Justice League’s as well. In the end she’d had a glimmer of suspicion confirmed only because Kent let her closer than nearly anyone, cape on or cape off, and there might never be enough time in two years for her to understand why he’d chosen to trust Mad Dog Lane of all people.

Lois did pick Wayne out of the lineup of men in well-tailored suits, mostly by using body language of the group at large to find the center of the widest postural changes. It helped that she was someone who appreciated the male form, and whatever people said when deriding Bruce Wayne’s less-prepared speeches or playboy antics, nobody said that Wayne was an unattractive man. The effect was actually muted in his magazine exclusives and television interviews, a very pleasant rarity in her field: a man that looked more at ease in his own skin than he did with half a pound of cosmetics and cinematic lighting.

He also had been the only man in the knot of suited executives to turn the moment Dick’s car entered the parking garage. He didn’t turn all that far, and the motion of his shoulders was all but invisible, but few things caught a veteran journalist’s attention as quickly as someone underplaying a reaction. 

When Dick stopped the car, the conversation of the group broke off with brief parting words and a few handshakes. In another tick for her guess that she was looking at Wayne’s adopted son, not a hired driver, Dick didn’t jump out to open the door for Wayne or to take the man’s greatcoat. He pushed the unlock button and then drummed his fingers against the steering wheel while Lucius Fox said a more elaborate farewell, something about ‘all the time in the world’ by what Lois could see of his lips. 

Wayne ducked into the back of the car and looked completely unsurprised to see her. That made introductions easier, especially as she was in the back of his company’s car, but she couldn’t help being disappointed that she’d not surprised him. A person’s reaction to finding a reporter sitting right where they’d not expected one usually gave her half of what she needed for another front page headline above the fold. 

From just feet away, Wayne wasn’t as pretty as she’d thought. He had a strong jawline, she’d always known that, but something in his bearing at the economic summits and charity galas had always been so light that she could hardly imagine the man producing a firm handshake. Up close, he looked like the sort of man that had taken a few knocks in some fitness class several levels above the boxing classes where bored men hit each other and ogled the ladies in the room, including reporters working on some beyond-scream-and-run self defense skills. Wayne had the shade of a bruise near the edge of his left jaw, expertly but imperfectly shaded by concealer that had likely worn down through the day. 

“Mr. Wayne,” she said after almost a full minute. She loved a good puzzle, she really did, and she and Wayne probably could spend the entire ride back to his home analyzing each other through the mismatched lenses of journalism and business. Maybe she would indulge in that some other time, after this she could try to throw White a bone and get him an outside perspective on how Metropolis could sustain itself without LexCorp. Wayne might not turn down a chance at a guest-perspective column when she’d do the lion’s share of the work and give him equal billing and the chance to take pot-shots at President Luthor. Sometime when Clark wasn’t missing so well that even the Justice League couldn’t find him. 

“Ms. Lane,” he returned.

Not a lot to go on, maybe, but bypassing ‘miss’ suited her fine. She had a man who looked in the eye and who had Clark’s approval, she’d chance the risk she came to Gotham to take. “I hear a mutual friend is giving a lot of people the runaround. I saw him eleven days ago leaving the Planet by way of a convenient rooftop.” 

He nodded in acknowledgement. There was a light in the attic, no mistake, and she didn’t mind that he outright encouraged Gotham’s see-Jane-run reporter set from sprinting to copy with easy pieces proclaiming him an idiot. Any CEO with a dab of humility wouldn’t mind the advantage. “I don’t have any more recent information on where he is or how he’s doing. By the time I realized something was wrong, you were already covering for him at the Planet.” 

“Not that hard, given his rep,” Lois admitted ruefully. “Easiest con ever. I took his briefcase home with me and called his mother. Give that woman the right reason and she could tell you the rain causes drought.” 

“Broken hip is believable enough for those who think her bones would dare break when she had work to do,” Wayne agreed mildly. “Helping his father with the carpentry to get the house ready for her to come back home was an inspired touch. Several people from the Planet have already sent flowers.” 

“I’ve been forging the e-mails he sends in. I’ll keep up with that again if I can get a secure connection, even if there won’t be anything fair about getting back to work. I’ll be AWOL for ages and fired, Clark will wander back in with people fussing about Martha.” Despite the wry tone she tried to keep, she was fine with the idea of Clark coming back to the Planet completely confused that the bullpen adored him and that he’d not be in trouble for his vanishing act just this once. White and Lois had been behind on a good argument, anyway, and vanishing for weeks at a time without notice was a very acceptable reason for a long shouting match.

“I’ll play bait if you need to bribe your editor for a safe return,” he offered. No sense that he was doing her a favor that she’d owe him for later, she noted happily. Maybe White would take her back with a Wayne interview on top of yet another article about why Metropolis really could arrest Lex Luthor, president or not, and then keep him in prison. Maybe at least a strong case for impeachment. “For now, all I know is what you told Alfred.” 

“Which wasn’t much,” Lois admitted, toying with the clasp of her briefcase. “Just how shielded is this car?” She glanced toward Dick as she asked. 

“Whatever you say in here won’t get to anyone I don’t trust.” 

Superman said trust Bruce Wayne. Well, Clark had written that Bruce Wayne would protect her if he couldn’t, but Clark knew his semantics. When it came to protection, Bruce Wayne wasn’t relegated to ‘should’ or ‘might’ or ‘could give it the old college try.’ Bruce Wayne would protect her. 

Lois opened the briefcase and carefully removed the small locking cashier’s box, a little relic of a time when a store’s tills could be paid in dimes and quarters. The slit in the top of the rectangular metal box had been sealed, and when she opened the box, the reason was clear. The entire interior of the box was coated in dark metal that just might be lead. 

Even in the bright afternoon light just beyond the car, the kryptonite within the box glimmered with green ribbons of light that moved like shadows, sometimes flashing to a lurid shade of lime. She unwrapped the message on the receipt paper, quite probably from his old-fashioned calculator Clark always used on stories that took series of calculations he’d double-check with a frown and a pencil.

Wayne didn’t reach for the kryptonite. He did take the strip of paper as carefully as if the message could shatter in his (blunted nails, no manicure there, several odd fine-line scars in no pattern she recognized, small burn to outer left wrist mostly hidden by his sleeve cuff) hands.

_If I can’t protect you, your favorite stuffed shirt will._

“Who left this for you?” he asked, looking away from the message after what she imagined to be a deliberate and theatrical pause. 

“I suppose that depends whether Clark had his cape on at the time.” Lois should be more patient, she’d barely had eyes on Wayne for three minutes, but the nervous energy was back with a vengeance. Being nervous put her on edge, being on edge left her feeling off balance, and all of that escalated until anger seemed to be the only way out. Snappy was the best she could hope for, really, and any decent executive could handle a little irritability. “If Clark Kent was leaving secret coded messages with actual kryptonite in my grandmother’s briefcase with glasses and flannel chic going on, there we have it, but somehow I know he had that sad Superman look where he thinks this sort of nonsense is nothing but inevitable.” 

She glanced at the note again and decided she actually didn’t have the emotional capacity to be embarrassed about the wording Superman had chosen. “The wording is a callback to a talk we had about two days after I worked out just why Clark is never around for a Superman sighting, or at least not wearing his loafers at the time.”

She had his full attention. It didn’t matter that his eyes hadn’t shifted away from the note in his hands. She kept talking. “Actual penny loafers, can you believe it? Well, I never had the chance to confront Clark about his hobby that nets me so many headlines, but we were talking business. He was grumbling a bit about Luthor, as would anyone I care to associate with in Metropolis, and doing that thing where he gets a bit disappointed with humanity in general. I said not to lump all the stuffed shirts together, mentioned you as the first example that came to mind of a non-Luthor, and a mouthful of coffee just about misted the entire workroom.” 

There was something there. Good. Lois couldn’t read the reaction, Wayne could stone-wall with the best of them, but there was some connection to Clark and Wayne past a stray comment. Even when he handed the slip of paper back to her, she couldn’t find any tells in the interaction.

Their driver wasn’t nearly so stoic; he was valiantly restraining giggles, that was all in the shoulders. “Yes, Sparky, the man spit-taked,” Lois said, patting one of the kid’s surprisingly muscular shoulders. What was it about the family, Wayne Manor was actually an elaborate jungle gym? Maybe the two of them played fight club in the basement. “So. Stuffed shirts, only time I’d used the phrase in weeks, surprise appearance in the note around the kryptonite in the box in my designated bug-out bag.” 

Showing just as much phone etiquette as he had in his curt call to Dick earlier, Bruce took a cell phone out of his pocket and had it at his ear a moment later. “Alfred,” he said into it, then waited a moment before speaking. Lois thought she heard a click to signal the line coming into use, which was fast, but maybe his caller had her phone on speaker. “Alfred, we’re about ten minutes out. Mmhm. Thank you.” Wayne ended the call with a deliberate tap on the screen.

“No one else would get away with that,” Dick teased, flashing a grin as he looked into the rearview mirror. “With everyone else it’s proper manners no matter how much excitement is bothering our exuberant American selves.” 

“British?” Lois guessed. 

“Very British,” Dick confirmed. “Probably how Alfred puts up with all of us, really. Never has the stiff upper lip been so tested.” 

Lois settled Clark’s note back into the box, resting the pad of her index finger on the lump of kryptonite. It felt smooth under her hand, a little cooler than the air in the sedan, but she knew what even a pebble of this could do to Superman. To Clark. She really was going to have a word with that man when they found him, because he was not going to vanish into thin air on her without a hint at goodbye. 

“Seems like you have some heavy-duty contacts,” Lois said when the kryptonite was tucked away in her bag. “It isn’t like Clark to just vanish. Usually there’s some flimsy excuse and then some aw-shucks when he shows up a few days later. At worst he’ll call a day or so after vanishing. Is anyone keeping an eye on the farm?” 

“The Justice League is handling that,” Bruce said without looking up from his smartphone. “They have boots on the ground.” 

“And when you say boots…” So help her, she was curious.

“Wonder Woman,” Bruce replied, just like a literal Amazon warrior princess was someone he chatted with often, which quite likely could be the case. Her life really was gloriously mad sometimes. 

She couldn’t not ask. She was a reporter and the sources were talking. “Promise this is not for public consumption, personal curiosity only—does Wonder Woman really have an invisible jet?” 

“Really,” Dick confirmed from the front seat. “Or at least she says she does. Really, though, when the Amazon tells you she has an invisible jet, people tend to stick with ‘yes ma’am.’”

Lois considered that superheroes were possibly as mad as the villains they fought, but the true crazy people just might be the civilians that were along for the ride. 

Lois settled back into her seat with her bag leaning against her leg, fistful of kryptonite safely stowed away. “My life was infinitely simpler before Kent showed up in Metropolis.” 

Dick grinned at her in the mirror. “Bruce picked me up out of a circus.”

Well, at least she was in good company.


	2. The Batcave and the Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Several pieces of dialogue in this chapter are entirely due to[TheDoktor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDoktor/pseuds/TheDoktor)’s help two and a half years ago. Any flaw in canon is decidedly not his fault. There are so many details of comic background that change frequently enough I’ve taken the liberty of putting my own timeline together._

Barbara Gordon had made up her mind. No matter how politely Alfred asked or how quickly he could suddenly find a plate of her favorite cookies, she would not be moved. 

She was happily ensconced in the Batcave’s main computer bay. The full system readjusted itself to perfect wheelchair height when she typed in her password. Transferring into wheeled office chairs was a nightmare even when they weren’t Bruce’s terrible “ergonomic” design, and height of a typical desk never quite matched with a wheelchair. She was still sure that he only kept his monstrosity of a desk chair so that sidekicks didn’t try to usurp his spot. Outside of her passcode, there were very few ways to get the awful chair out of the way. With her passcode… Barbara would fully admit that she was petting one of the computer towers. She’d helped create the most recent version of the Batcomputer. The computing power alone was enough to make her inner geek sigh with contentment but it was the giant array of monitors and touchscreens and clever places for drinks and snacks really let her settle in. The League still had no sign of Superman or Lois Lane, and she needed much more computing power than she could reasonably house in her apartment. The maintenance man at her complex was retiring soon and his replacement might not believe she had an entire wall of computers just for playing MMORPGs. Maybe if Bruce bought a gaming company… well, after they’d found Superman. It might be nice to have a job that she could mention to her neighbors.

She had been settled in and ready to get to work when Alfred came down with the unexpected news that her main investigation was no longer a matter of urgency. She’d paused, mug of black tea frozen at her lips, and looked up from her many-screen attempt to find Lois Lane to hear that Dick was on his way to pick Lane up from a coffee shop. A Gotham coffee shop. Better and better, Lois Lane was coming to the Manor, and perhaps could be coaxed into revealing just how she had evaded Oracle’s electronic eyes, J’onn’s telepathic presence, and basically the entirety of the Justice League in full panic with Superman and then Lois completely out of sight. 

The next remark was where Alfred had lost her. He wanted her to leave behind her nest of computer monitors and tea to set up in the Green dining room, which was moderately wheelchair-accessible but had that awful antique table where she always banged her knees. Not that she felt it, but then her knees would be all bruised later and she’d need to remember how she had bashed herself up and her physical therapist would give her yet another lecture about Being Aware Of Her Surroundings as if Babs hadn’t heard the Batman version. 

The quiet war continued until the car pulled onto the main drive. Alfred would politely mention some item of food that would be available upstairs. The last and most tempting salvo was chocolate-dipped cookies. She would ignore his bribes and focus on her cooling tea. The tea alone was worth making someone drive her out to the manor; Alfred had entirely spoiled her for tea. She’d made friends with a British expat in her apartment building on sole basis of mutual ranting about American disrespect of tea and the art of drinking it. She would stay strong, though, even through tepid tea, because Alfred had never left a mug empty for more than fifteen minutes without the I Am Very Disappointed In Your Decisions look that followed particularly dim bits of heroics. He saved that for more important slights than stubborn refusal to go upstairs.

She frowned at her empty mug of tea sixteen minutes later, wondering if she had perhaps misjudged Butlerese, and for a moment considered yielding. She could make Dick carry her things back down later, and it would be polite to at least meet Superman’s favorite human. Just when she was about to tap the intercom, the door opened from upstairs. 

It closed with no sign of Lois Lane. She still wasn’t sure she was ready for a journalist visiting Wayne Manor outside of a ball. She knew that Lane tended to focus on business and political scandals more than personal interest (outside of her immensely popular Superman columns), but nearly all reporters asked Barbara about the Joker eventually, whether or not they had the guts to admit that’s what they were doing. 

Instead, there was a far more familiar sight descending the staircase: a stoic Bruce tailed by a wildly gesticulating Dick. “I’m just saying that it would be easier, you could actually have a reply other than the to-the-Batcave-Robin head-jerk. She’s a reporter. She knows about Clark and unless he told her and didn’t update the identity logs at the Watchtower, which c’mon, Clark loves the allowable identification logs...” 

Dick paused to check progress. Barbara took a moment to admire a prime ‘I doubt you have anything interesting to say in follow-up but I have been surprised perhaps four times in my life’ Bat-glare not directed at her. 

“It would get ridiculous,” Barbara agreed, pushing her wheelchair back and spinning to face the pair. “On top of the part where Superman is still missing… she’s in the manor, we want a good reason that she should tell us everything, and we all know Dick is a sucker for pretty ladies asking moderately intelligent questions. I think we can agree Lane’s beyond moderate.” 

“I can’t decide if I resent or resemble that remark,” Dick muttered, sitting backward on his favorite of the Robin-chairs. “But Lois already knows that you-Bruce Wayne know Superman, you told her the League is watching the Kents… you told her it was Diana.” 

This would not be the fifth time Bruce was surprised. “There’s no use inviting a reporter to Wayne manor for protection from Superman’s enemies just to set off a comedy of errors,” he agreed. “Clark trusts her and the League agreed her safety is a priority on par with Superman’s.” 

Barbara nodded in reply, pleased that they had figured this out so quickly. It would be much less disruptive to Barbara’s planned conference call with the League if she didn’t have to relocate her entire battle station upstairs.

Dick, of course, never accepted things like a reasonable Bruce without a fight. “You mean we just tell her,” he said flatly, too surprised for the many quips this situation deserved. “Just like that.” 

Bruce nodded once as if “by the way I’m Batman” was some kind of commonplace occurrence. 

Dick rested the back of his hand over Bruce’s forehead, keeping the movement just slow enough to not set off an instinctive block. “Are you okay? Are we having a body-swapping problem?” 

“This is going to take a great deal of coordination,” Bruce growled in a tone rarely heard outside of the cowl. “Any entity or circumstance that can make Clark vanish without time for him to make a call to the League or to Lane is a serious threat. She knows something that we don’t. She saw something that spooked her badly enough to leave Metropolis and keep herself under tight enough control that J’onn couldn’t find her.” 

Which meant that Bruce had been concerned enough about Lois Lane never coming back from her lunch break that he’d been in contact with J’onn directly and was probably driving the Martian up the wall. Barbara, always more subtle than Dick, hid a smile and turned back to her workstation to draft a message for the League. 

“You big old softie,” Dick said, dodging the swat to his arm. He was grinning as much for enhancing the Bruce-glare as he was for the remarkable concession that there were some people in the world that were okay. “But yes, life is going to be a bit easier if we don’t start living a triple-life with a whole new identity as the Justice League’s civilian financial backers.” 

Barbara wasn’t going to miss this. She pushed herself away from the station again to let Bruce type an addendum on her message. Most of the League had never met Lois Lane in person but being friends with Superman was enough to get the League on her side. 

The elevator was crowded with three, and would be elbow-to-face when they added a fourth, but Barbara didn’t mind a little crowding when it meant being included. She followed Dick and Bruce past Alfred’s pantry. The corridor leading from the elevator to the kitchen had been too cramped for a wheelchair before Alfred and Bruce had renovated. Most of the Manor had undergone renovations while Barbara was still going through inpatient rehabilitation, actually, and after Bruce pointed out a few features and apologetically mentioned two bathrooms too small to be modified, no one mentioned the part where Bruce had methodically gutted most of his home for her. 

Barbara had ended up in the lead from sheer practicality. Behind Bruce and Dick and the wall of shoulders that resulted when they walked together, she wouldn’t be able to see a thing. In front, she had a better view for obstacles and less opportunity to clip ankles with her wheelchair. 

Lois Lane was one of the rare new arrivals to look relaxed in Alfred’s kitchen. Alfred kept the kitchen a puzzling mismatch of the new and the antique, just as he preferred it, and kept coffee mugs and salad plates and cutlery in strange places that defied the understanding of non-butlers. Some guests busied themselves trying to help and ignored all polite entreaties to sit down and stay out of his way. 

In her wrinkled button-down blouse, Lois Lane looked like she was relaxing for the first time in days. She and Alfred were chatting over a pot of tea and the chocolate-covered biscuits Alfred had been offering Barbara as bribes. Lois looked worlds more comfortable than Superman had been on his first visit. 

Barbara had only heard the stories, of course, but Superman was from Kansas just as much as Krypton. He could never quite understand that Alfred was and was not Bruce’s father, just as Bruce was and wasn’t his son. He also did not understand that etiquette demanded sitting down and letting Alfred handle the rest.

Lois glanced up when they approached. She nodded to Bruce and Dick before focusing on Barbara.

“Barbara Gordon,” Babs said, holding out a hand when she rolled to a stop. It was always a bit awkward reaching up, but it was less awkward than skipping everybody else’s traditional hello. 

“Lois Lane,” she replied with a smile. “I imagine everyone here knows already, but it’s nice to have something to say.” 

“We’re all glad to know that you’re safe.” Barbara snagged two cookies and batted her eyelashes at Alfred’s feigned disapproval. She was upstairs, that meant she had earned her reward. Cookies safely deposited in her armrest compartment, she rolled back and spun to get herself in better position to head back down to the cave. Bruce and Dick had left precisely the amount of space that she needed. She allowed herself to be a tiny bit glad that Damian was off with Diana and the Kents. She kept assuming any Robin would know to dodge a wheelchair but Damian was still snobby enough to assume anyone would yield to him instead. Barbara further assumed that was Talia’s influence and genes in the boy but unlike some people she was polite enough to keep that to herself. 

“If you don’t mind moving, we have a meeting area ready.” Bruce nodded back toward the elevator. “We’ve been trying to find a lead on where Clark is but haven’t had any luck.” 

“It gets harder when ‘somewhere in space’ is a valid option,” Lois quipped. She looked to Alfred before abandoning her empty cup. When he shooed her off, she ended up walking next to Barbara. 

“Tell me about it,” Barbara grumbled. “Your articles are great, really, but usually if I want to know what he’s doing I can find any number of fansites that have pictures of his latest exploits. I’ve had nothing and it’s getting old.” 

Lois squeezed into the elevator with them. She kept a messenger bag clutched in front of her and did an admirable job keeping it out of Barbara’s face considering the tight quarters. “It’s been a long week. I’ve been using all my undercover tricks with the extra stress of wondering why Clark gave me kryptonite.” 

“Clark wanted you to be protected from any threat up to and including himself,” Bruce said seriously. “There’s a reason he told you to come to me.” Just as he finished speaking, the elevator doors opened to reveal a large portion of the cave. 

Lois’s eyes widened as she took in the Batcave instead of whatever basement she had expected. “I was halfway to convincing myself that I misunderstood the inference or that you had a very impressive security staff. This makes a lot more sense.” 

Dick, of course, looked simultaneously disappointed and relieved at the lack of a scene. 

“I honestly thought that Superman was joking when he mentioned a Batcave and a Batmobile,” Lois quipped, smile tugging at her lips as she stepped forward and looked around. “Mr. Primary Colors has a Fortress of Solitude and you have commitment to a theme.” 

“It seemed easiest to let you know about resources at our disposal,” Bruce said with dignity. Behind him, Dick was beaming at Lois. 

Lois turned as she walked to take in the cave, pausing to look at the gymnastics equipment just as much as a few of the more noticeable features of the trophy cases. “Your resources are far more impressive at the moment. I have a chunk of kryptonite and a few sightings of rejects from a ninja movie.” 

Barbara and Dick glanced at each other and had a very fast series of rock-paper-scissors. It was always best out of three and they always ended up needing three rounds. By the time Barbara lost, however, Bruce had already called up a file on the main computer bay. 

“The League of Shadows is a possibility,” Bruce said. 

Barbara made the rooftop handsign for ‘dodged a bullet.’ Dick returned the signal with a sharp nod before they went back to being attentive adults trying to help find Superman instead of sidekicks wondering who was going to tell Batman that the Talia al Ghul was in town again. 

“The outfits look about right,” Lois said, frowning at the gallery of images. “I hadn’t seen someone similar before, ever, but the night I left Metropolis there were four outside my apartment.” 

“No motives to attack Superman come to mind for the League.” Bruce frowned at the monitors. “Ra’s al Ghul and his daughter Nyssa never act without motive.” 

Lois tilted her head and reached to advance to the next set of images. “Do they use magic? That’s one of the few things that can catch Clark by surprise, from what I’ve seen, and he wasn’t looking over his shoulder before he vanished.” 

“Usually they fake a kidnapping rather than getting their hands dirty with an actual abduction,” Dick said with remarkable tact. Barbara silently handed him one of her cookies. “Did Clark mention anything about weird mail? Meeting with somebody in trouble? Nyssa might have faked a kidnapping herself. Like father, like daughter.” 

Lois’s fingers were twitching. When Barbara held out a legal pad and a ballpoint pen, Lane accepted them with a smile. “Thank you, I like scribbling,” Lois said. “So… which one is in charge? Nyssa or Ra’s? You don’t have father-daughter co-rulers of big ninja cults, I would guess.” 

“Ra’s is still the leader and mastermind of the League,” Bruce said. “They’re… idealists in the true sense, ideals over anything else. They believe they’ll the world from the folly of humanity no matter how much of humanity dies in the process. Nyssa is one of Ra’s two daughters and leads a splinter group with a few philosophical differences.” 

Lois nodded as she rapidly sketched out a diagram notated in shorthand. “Right. Who’s the second daughter?” 

Bruce made what Barbara and Dick both called the Tragic Stoicism Unappreciated By Modern Times face. It mostly involved looking completely neutral with only very subtle hints that teasing the man would result in a very large amount of boring training assignments. “Talia al Ghul. Nyssa’s half-sister. I wouldn’t expect her to be involved.” 

“My shark-senses are lighting up here,” Lois said apologetically, setting her notepad down. “You know, bite where there’s blood? All successful reporters except Clark end up with the instinct. So. Talia’s a little more personal, but is she personal enough that she’d give you a hint?” 

Barbara and Dick kept their mouths shut while Bruce’s Tragic Stoicism Unappreciated by Modern Times face shifted into the sadder variant they both worked hard to not cause. Lois Lane wasn’t someone that would end up doing pull-ups or getting surveillance duty for hours. She wasn’t afraid of Disappointed Batman.

“I have something to check on. Dick and Barbara can answer any other questions you might have,” he said curtly before turning on his heel and heading for the clock stairs. 

They waited for the latch of the door. 

“Possibly better from an outsider?” Lois asked. 

Dick nodded vehemently. “Had to be you or Babs. I would be running so many combat simulations I’d be busy for a week. Talia has always been a sore spot but lately it’s worse than usual. She showed up here a couple months ago with a kid. An actual nine-year-old child. Hey Bruce, by the way, we have a child and I spent years telling you zilch about him.” 

Lois picked up the legal pad again. “Where is the child now?” 

“Batgirl’s with him and the League has a rotating guard,” Barbara said. “Damian was not pleased to be sent out of town but he’ll deal. We weren’t sure if you had been kidnapped but weren’t going to take any chances.” 

Lois looked over her diagram while she organized her thoughts. This was a large part of the reason she preferred chasing down a corporation. Hard questions about business deals didn’t make her feel like a gossip columnist. “Talia kept him with her until just recently. She never told Damian’s father about the kid’s existence. What are the chances that Ra’s al Ghul is eventually going to figure out who the kid’s dad was?” 

“Probably pretty high.” Dick jabbed a thumb at the stairway that led to the grandfather clock. “I’m going to go accelerate this so we can get moving. Ra’s really likes to have a plan but he will go off half-cocked in a bad way when it involves his own flesh and blood.” 

“Secondary introductions, Dick is also Nightwing, previously the first Robin,” Barbara said as Dick hustled off in Bruce’s wake. Dick waved over his shoulder before making a very showy flip up and onto the stairs. “I was Batgirl before a night in ended badly. Now I help the League run data and I would love to know how you dodged all of us that long.” 

“Short answer is a mind palace and a fake ID,” Lois replied without hesitation. “Hard to get all your answers right on public transit if you don’t have a very solid backstory and fellow passengers like to chat. Long answer, maybe we can fill each other in? If you have any kind of software to provide a sketch I’d like to describe the ninjas as I remember them before looking at any more information.” 

“Deal. Bruce should be back down soon, he might check in with Damian just to be sure things are still okay there.” Barbara wheeled herself back into her spot at the main computer and opened a Damian-level secondary access to one of her new programs for generating an image by description. “You can type in free-text or start with multiple choice.” 

Lois nodded and typed for a few minutes before making a few final selections. The sketch Barbara’s program produced was rough and still terrible at approximating abdomen length, but overall, Barbara thought the match to Ra’s usual guard was impressive enough. 

“Very nice,” Lois said approvingly. “The options for mask shape felt like the most limiting for me but that’s great.” She turned to look at the images on other monitors before pausing. “Talia al Ghul. Known alias of Talia Head?” 

“Mmhm,” Barbara agreed. “Took over as LexCorp CEO about-“ Barbara broke off and blinked at the screen. Lex Luthor was the president of the United States, which was awful enough, but somehow no one in the Justice League had thought to be suspicious of Talia al Ghul running his company while Superman was missing. 

The desk intercom lit up before she could hit the call button. “On our way down,” Dick said quickly. “Talia’s in charge of LexCorp. Can you get us a flight plan? Bruce wants wheels up in about forty minutes.” 

“On it,” Barbara agreed. She smiled as the reply came just seconds after she sent the typed request up to the Watchtower. She loved days when Flash was on monitor duty. Distracted with double-checking Flash’s comments about the flight plan, Barbara didn’t notice Lois’s expression shift to something that would have made Clark nervous. By the time Bruce and Dick walked back into the cave, Lois was looking over the flight plan with a stance that would have made Clark roll his eyes and plan for contingencies. 

“I’m coming with you,” Lois called in greeting. 

“I didn’t invite you,” Bruce replied. 

Barbara winced. Bruce had changed into most of the suit before coming back down the clock staircase but he didn’t have his gloves or cowl yet. Usually, it took three hours of patrol in the full outfit before his voice reached that level of gravel. 

“You’re flying to see the CEO of LexCorp about Superman.” Lois fixed her messenger bag’s position on her shoulder. “Even better, you’re flying the Batplane to see Talia with clearance of the Justice League and all the publicity that brings. She’s the CEO of a public company and still transitioning into power. Talia, Lex, and Ra’s all have valid reasons to not want Lois Lane tragically killed in the LexCorp headquarters.” 

Dick carefully edged around the brewing confrontation and set a plate of chocolate-dipped shortbread cookies on the desk. Barbara flashed the hand-sign for ‘thanks’ without looking away from the confrontation. 

“I suppose you won’t be reasonable about this.”

“You’d have to lock me up somewhere,” Lois admitted frankly. “I’m sure you could handle the physicality of it. You just don’t know what you’re getting into with Clark when you get there, and best case scenario, Clark gives you huge sad-eyes for false imprisonment of his friend. If you didn’t lock me up I’d just head to Metropolis on my own steam.” 

Barbara was holding her breath at the complete lack of respect for the I Am Batman mystique. She suddenly wished that the Batcave had surveillance recordings just so she could show Tim later. Tim always missed the good stuff. 

Bruce pulled on the cowl before directing a glower toward the three of them. “Fine. We’ll discuss approach on the way over. If you get yourself killed, the Wayne Foundation will create some incredibly tacky remembrance project in your honor.” 

Lois nodded. “I have no doubt I would hate it. As for approach, I have a few ideas based on what I’ve read so far. Barbara, if you could please get me a copy of some of the relevant information to go? I can keep myself occupied during flight pre-checks and takeoff.” 

“On it,” Barbara chirped. She was glad to have a reason to pretend she wasn’t just watching the standoff closely so she could describe it at the next League party. “Dick, are you on Team Gotham?” 

“Affirmative. Tim and Steph are doing most of the patrols, I’m holding out unless we have something that needs fixing,” Dick said. He grabbed the tablet Barbara had activated and handed it off to Lois. Lane tucked it into her messenger bag and waved at both of them before following Bruce to the jet. 

Barbara regretfully decided against journalism as her cover career while Dick helped check the flight plan and which Leaguers were available on standby. Journalism was clearly a great line of work, but Barbara would be all too tempted to write about computer technology or vigilante justice in an era where crime was increasingly international, and she’d rather keep her full abilities and knowledge on a need-to-know basis. Maybe she could get her own online game started up if she adapted a few of her crime-fighting programs toward building a virtual world instead of describing the real one. 

She kept a running list of tweaks she could make for combat simulation generators to make them useful for a game and not useful for criminals while messaging back and forth with Flash.

“So that just happened,” Dick said after watching surveillance of the manor’s grounds show the jet taking off. “She’s still onboard?” 

“Unless Bruce is skimming through the tablet while flying.” Barbara watched the jet until it vanished from the camera’s view. She smiled when the monitor’s view automatically switched to show the jet’s flight path, glad to see another new subprogram at work. She liked letting the computer follow her needs instead of needing to change everything herself. 

For once, Batman’s flight path was logged and on record. The FAA was so thrilled when the League bothered to follow any of the usual channels that they usually could get in the air very quickly. She was pretty sure at least ninety percent of the operators thought that Wonder Woman’s invisible jet was a practical joke but none of them had worked up the courage to ask just yet. “I was going to insist that Bruce had to have some kind of backup given his track record on Talia plans, but I think Lois is going to have better luck than either of us.” 

“Your League message didn’t mention that she’s going.” 

Barbara frowned at the monitor showing the jet’s progress toward Metropolis. “Trust issues. I didn’t tell Lois that Damian is in Smallville, I didn’t tell the League that Lois is handling this with Batman. If we have a leak from inside the League, I want to know.” 

“I really don’t want to agree with that line of thinking.” 

“Superman never does.” Barbara turned her attention back toward all surveillance feeds in Metropolis that would let her snoop through street views. “If the two of them can get him back and the League didn’t do it, I’ll feel bad for being paranoid.” 

“Understood. Hey, did you know LexCorp had a livestream of their lobby for a bit? There was a press conference bragging last week. Feel up to getting Bruce a very nice view?” 

Barbara immediately left her boring view of a street outside LexCorp headquarters to languish in the upper-right hand monitor. “Now I know. Run the power check for me? Flash can route the request through official channels if I don’t get to snoop on the electric grid directly anymore. If we guess that Superman is in LexCorp we can see if they’re using more power than usual.” 

Fighting crime sitting down was never going to be as fun as kicking crime in its stupid laughing face. Sometimes, though, getting the right information to make missions go more smoothly and bossing around superheroes almost made up for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you so much to everyone that has left comments! I am so glad that other people like the main idea behind this story and I hope my Lois continues to live up to your expectations._


	3. Executive Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Much of this chapter was written with the amazing[Kayasurin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayasurin/pseuds/Kayasurin). Thanks, friend!_

Talia al Ghul was a woman of contradictions, Bruce had said on the jet, and Lois Lane’s first sighting of LexCorp’s CEO certainly supported the succinct explanation of the Demon Head’s daughter. Ms. al Ghul was dressed in pinstriped navy suit separates over a cream-colored silk top, slim-fitted pants and one-button jacket both beautifully tailored to her figure, and the tablet held easily in her manicured hands was the touch-screen variety, not the cuneiform Lois half-expected from the elaborate tapestries on two walls and the elaborate hand-woven rug underfoot. Instead of sitting in an office chair, however, or at a desk, she was reclining on a cushioned divan more suited to a dinner party in ancient Rome than an executive office. Her leather sandals looked just as ancient in style, but her cosmetics were definitely modern, possibly discounting what could be actual kohl lining her eyes.

Lois had time to draw her leisurely conclusions from a vantage point in the hallway just out of al Ghul’s peripheral vision. A distinct advantage of teaming up with Batman was that al Ghul’s matching set of grunts in well-made suits had been dealt with silently and in under fifteen seconds, just as easily as he’d handled the other four men on patrol, all while Lois reviewed her notes in a surveillance dead zone. The CEO’s clothing alone would have given her enough to go on, she suspected, but the deciding factor in how to best get the response she wanted was in the woman’s hands. The hand holding the device was steady and held at ease, perhaps at too much ease, but Talia’s other hand was stabbing at the screen with vicious motions that left her fingernail touching the screen just as often as the pad of her finger.

When Mad Dog Lane stalked into the room just as if she’d dealt with the six guards they’d encountered personally, Lois appeared to dismiss Talia and the entire room in just a glance. In her long experience, megalomaniacs reacted quickly to someone not appreciating just how grand they looked. 

“Talia al Ghul, I presume,” Lois announced, glancing up and down as if she hadn’t already looked the woman over fully from the hall. “Unless you prefer Talia Head?” 

To al Ghul’s credit, she took less than a second to recognize the sudden intruder. “Lois Lane,” she replied coolly. “Just what brings you here? If you’d called ahead, we might have had an interview over supper.” 

Lois smiled brightly. It was the sort of expression that made Clark start reflexively planning apologies, and just thinking of Clark gave the standard Look I’m So Friendly smile a scalpel-sharp edge. “I thought this would be more effective,” Lois said as she settled herself into the wooden straight-backed chair for visitors, legs tucked demurely to her side and briefcase dropped carelessly to the floor. If Bruce had looked puzzled when she had changed into a skirt and dressier blouse while he was checking over the jet, and Batman had looked downright mutinous at her ensemble’s three-inch heels when his own costume was in place, he had respected her judgment enough to not ask.

Lois, however, had never been the type to resort to fisticuffs when she could use wiles and force just the reactions she wanted. With Talia al Ghul… first, use the surroundings to show that Lane was utterly unimpressed with al Ghul’s importance or her dining room’s opulence. Second, prove that Lane was important and impressive enough to have just what no amount of money or influence could buy, just what al Ghul would want for herself. Talia would know Lois hadn’t laid a finger on those guards.

The first step toward her second goal was settling the sharp smile into something subtler, something that would only imply just what she wanted her mark to believe. Even if the words weren’t quite right, people let that smile fill in whatever it was they thought Lane would say. Sometimes having a reputation as an incisive journalist did half of her questioning. The persistent rumors only grew when hapless interviewees spilled things no amount of digging would have unearthed. “I also suspected you’d have a bit more of a guard in place, or that you’d have a busier social calendar, but here we are.” 

“Quite,” al Ghul replied, frowning. She tapped at the tablet several times before setting it aside with thinned lips. “Just what do you wish to converse about, then?” 

Lois settled into the hard chair. Truly, the chair had been masterfully designed to be uncomfortable, but appearance was most of her battle in situations like this odd little interview. “First of all, perhaps, I’m surprised that you’re involved in this at all, but I suppose anything to make family dinners less tedious. Rumor has it daddy dearest isn’t too pleased that you can’t switch your crush on public enemy number one off when it’s inconvenient to him.” 

Talia scowled. Just as Lane had thought, leaving the interview at an all-too-personal level would get more of what Lane wanted to hear. 

Talia al Ghul must have heard that opener before, of course, because she replied with only a premeditated pause to make her reply seem spontaneous. “Enemy is a very harsh word, I would think, and even my father is well aware I can hardly aspire to a better man in these times. I also am less patient than he, and do not wish to wait for centuries until someone more suited will appear. There are few men worth the time it takes to brood a babe, let alone the investment of raising up his child.” 

Lane nodded along with the canned speech. That was nothing that Batman’s file on Ms. Al Ghul had not been able to tell her. “Fancy way of saying that you like the bad boy in the leather jacket and Daddy disapproves, I suppose. That would explain pitching in on one of your father’s worse ideas.” 

“Perhaps you will go speak with my father instead, if his perspective is so fascinating,” al Ghul retorted icily. She was used to the low-hanging fruits, it seemed, or at least had heard remarks of that nature enough times that they had lost all potency.

“I like hearing from both sides, when I can get a comment. Habit of good journalism,” Lane said easily. It had been very likely that merely mentioning Batman and Talia’s longstanding infatuation wouldn’t get her anywhere. The two of them had a child together and Talia might suspect Lois knew about Damian. If she wanted al Ghul’s attention, however, arousing a bit of good old-fashioned envy wouldn’t hurt her cause one bit. “As it happens, though, I’m not sure how much you can tell me about Batman.” 

“I am unsure just what question you have actually asked.” 

Lois shifted her briefcase slightly, as if the weight was leaning on her ankle badly. That just so happened to move the borrowed phone in the outside pocket so that the symbol on the back showed for a moment. For someone so familiar with Batman’s standard insignia, let alone with the vibrant yellow backing, that was more than enough time to draw the eye. “Well, I don’t know what good asking would do, and my traveling companion didn’t think you’d be able to help.” 

Talia barely reacted. “Just who would that be, then? The little photographer?” 

Talia al Ghul was very good, Lane would give her that. She hadn’t expected that she would need anything close to big guns and hadn’t considered alerting Batman to just what gambit Lois might play. It was for Clark, after all, and there weren’t many chances Lois wouldn’t take to have her goofy partner back where he belonged.

“Well, no.” Lois crossed her legs, a shift in weight making the action look accidental, and paid no mind to how the shift in her thighs pulled her skirt up higher than Lane tended to allow her skirts to climb. The side-saddle posture of her legs only accentuated the move, and the last touch was the changes in her voice: instead of her crisp speaking-to-a-recorder diction that kept her words clear even on a secondary tape recorder hidden in her purse, her voice shifted to the sort of reverent, slow admiration generally reserved for her coffee maker when the dratted fancy thing did what it was meant to do and delivered a beautiful pot of early-morning coffee. “The Dark Knight. Chivalry is far from dead, as it happens.” 

Talia al Ghul’s icy composure cracked abruptly. There was no softening, no slow realization, but she went directly from aloof and cold to afire with anger. “He would not,” she said, her tablet falling to the ground as she looked Lane over in pieces, from the hemline of her skirt to the scuff on the side of her shoe to Lane’s hair, which happened to be a bit of a disaster. Dry shampoo only did so much. “You? Everyone knows that you—” 

Talia stopped herself. That stop was worth more to Lane than all the other words together, because what Talia would have said was entirely true. Everyone knew that Lois Lane was Superman’s favorite reporter. Everyone knew that if Lane was in trouble, Superman would be there, and she would have a narrow escape that made for a thrilling article in the Daily Planet’s next edition. 

Everyone knew that Lois and Superman were linked. It was a rather innocuous statement as protests to Lane’s claimed relationship with Batman went. It wasn’t, however, the sort of thing you said if you knew something about Superman that was far from common knowledge. Talia didn’t want to bring Superman into the conversation, suggesting she knew something beyond the rest of Metropolis.

That wasn’t enough to work with, though, so Lois followed through with the smugness inherent in that sort of claim and let the hem of her skirt up just one more inch and summoned a crooked hint of a smirk from somewhere. She had seduced Batman, because for that assault on al Ghul’s perceived abilities to work, Lois Lane had been the one with the idea and execution to her credit.

Talia’s composure was gone, now, and she was taking in even more pieces of evidence that would lead al Ghul to fully believe that Lois Lane had spent the better part of a day having creative and enthusiastic sex with Batman. The idea was already in Talia’s mind, the trick was to let her believe it.

Lois could have cursed when she saw Talia dismiss the idea as highly improbable. It would work on most people, perhaps, but when Talia was so far gone into the fantasy that she and Batman would go off into the sunset together, Lane needed a little more than an insinuation and a short skirt. 

Having Batman himself, as it turned out, would more than do the trick. Batman had leaned against the doorway at some point, and the hint of a smug playboy smirk playing about his lips was something she only would have expected from Bruce Wayne. Lane didn’t know he was capable of that range of expression while in the mask, but maybe that was part of why Batman’s reputation was so solidly set in place. People believed exactly what he wanted them to believe.

“I told you she wouldn’t know enough to justify stopping in,” Batman said, but that was not Batman’s usual voice. Lois might not have heard him talk that often, but she was familiar with the gravel that very admirably sounded nothing like Bruce Wayne even to her ear. If anything, Bruce’s opening line sounded like Bruce Wayne doing a somewhat creditable attempt at Batman’s voice, and Lois really needed to stop overthinking this. 

Luckily enough, her moment of startled comprehension had left just the right amount of dazed that Lois could play it as dreamy-eyed, now that Talia was starting to consider the idea. “Maybe I wanted to gloat. She’s been after you for ages, and here I am,” Lois said with her best cat-with-the-canary voice.

Batman shook his head, once, but his softened posture led the denial to look far more indulgent than commanding. “Lois, you’ve made your point. I told you. When she isn’t directly involved, Ra’s won’t tell her a thing. Sometimes even when the issue at hand is in her own sub-basement.” 

“Gloating,” Lois countered petulantly. “There’s always time for gloating, but you’re right, we’ve wasted enough time.” She stood slowly, leaving time for Batman to look toward her legs as she did. She came perilously close to giggling when he did. He looked more like he was examining clues than admiring a woman, and while that might do it for some lucky woman out there, it clearly wasn’t for Lois Lane. Clark always blushed when he dared to look. “Nice to meet you, Talia, let’s not do this again.” 

Talia looked furious, completely ready to spit and claw, and then she said the most interesting thing Lane had heard in hours. “It seems that you took very little time to make a change, then,” she said, glaring up at Lane with real heat in her eyes. “Were you bored before or after you realized that he was gone?” 

Lois glanced back over her shoulder. She had more than enough of a view and didn’t need to obstruct anything Bruce might glean from Talia’s expression. “Who are we discussing? I was single, now I’m seeing how this goes.” 

“Your friend with the red and blue.” 

“Superman is a friend,” Lois said, as if that was a casual aside and not something that had become a central truth of her life. “A good friend, yes, but he does have a habit of vanishing for a few days at a time on occasion. If he’s interested… well, being gone for over a week doesn’t do much to make me consider him a contender.” 

Talia stood up slowly. There was no languid posing or attempts to seem harmless. If anything, it seemed that she was very deliberately leashing her temper, but one wrong mood could leave her too angry enough to abandon all reason. “I think he speaks with you more often, or that he would wish to, and that you are not the casual link that you let the world see.” Her voice had lost the British-accented tone entirely, no more private-school diction, and her tone spoke of barely-contained fury. “He is better than you deserve.” 

The raised brow was nothing Lois had to feign. That was more than she or Bruce had thought they would gain. She abruptly missed Clark all over again. Her impossible partner had charmed even Talia al Ghul. 

“You may think little of him,” Talia said, seemingly needing no vocal prompts to continue with her tirade. “Perhaps many do, but they are wrong. I’ve a mind to tell him that he need not have such concern for you.” 

In retrospect, the shock that Clark really was with Ra’s al Ghul and still _alive_ so Lois could find him had loosened her tongue, as Lane hadn’t meant to push a woman that could threaten Clark’s safety. Not when she honestly had minimal idea how al Ghul would react. “Talk about moving on fast. You realized that you can’t have Bruce so you moved right on to Superman? Come on, B, let’s go.” 

“It is funny to you, maybe.” The anger from earlier was gone from Talia’s voice. The flatter tone caught Lois’s attention well enough that she turned to fully face the woman. Talia paused when she saw Batman, but continued after focusing on Lois. “I suppose to you it must look that I am—that I am a silly little girl. Desperate. Someone who dreams in fairy-stories and in the movies where the boy chases the girl who says no until the no will become a yes. 

“And perhaps I am that boy in the movies, sometimes, because I would like for someone to say yes to me, sometime, and it seems that I meet few people that I will meet again. If there is nothing else to being Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter, only more decades of people thinking I am less for admiring someone even when it is inconvenient and seems silly to them, then so be it. If I am some… some…” The word escaped her, but she soldiered on. “And you may be right. But when I spoke with him, Superman told me that you were the best of people, Miss Lane. A shining light. Someone to remind him of why he fought for the world. 

“So I will tell him you are safe enough, now, that he need not worry for you any longer,” Talia said, chin tilted defiantly upward. 

Lois was fully taken aback at the fury her words had caused. Talia’s attempts to seduce Batman to her way of thinking had seemed very foolish, back at the manor, surrounded by the many people who claimed Batman as their own and who rolled their eyes at someone else who had said the same. “I think it might be time for you to meet some new people, Ms. al Ghul. I can name a few good movies out there where the girl lives her life and the guy’s a bit of an afterthought.” 

“My father doesn’t have a surplus of children,” Talia said, shrugging one shoulder. “Mostly, he has those subordinates who would die at his word. He had eight separate men worked into the Daily Planet, all in half of a year only. Eight! And of them, six had duties that could bring them next to you as you worked. So there is something to be said for admiring the man that bests my father.” Her gaze flicked past Lois just once, and just for a moment. “I imagine that you will show yourself out, and that you will find your friend soon enough. Goodbye.” 

Talia walked through the doorway with her head held high, leather sandals making only a quiet rasp against the marble floor, without another glance toward Batman even as she walked directly past him. 

Lois deflated as her target walked out of probable earshot. “Well, now I feel bad,” Lois muttered. Fine kettle of fish she’d uncovered there. She and Bruce had agreed that Talia was likely to be a part of whatever scheme had caught Superman. As unlikely as it seemed, Clark seemed to have made a friend, again, and Lois just might have alienated a potential ally entirely. 

Batman was looking at Talia’s retreating back when he replied. “Wait here.” 

In another situation, Lois would have taken great offense at being told to stay like some sidekick, but she imagined the conversation he planned wasn’t the sort of thing that required an audience. She pulled her favorite running flats out of her purse as Batman walked after Talia, cape flaring out behind him. 

Talia was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief as he followed, but he suspected there was more to this than the obvious. She ducked into a balcony just far enough away that he suspected she had intended to be caught. The theatric production of bringing a handkerchief to her face only supported that conclusion. He’d seen Talia cry before, both crocodile tears and real sobs, and if she were truly crying now he was the last person she’d want to see. 

Talia herself confirmed that when she caught him from the corner of her eye. She was hunched forward, handkerchief over the lower half of her face. “Cameras,” she said, voice clear. “Take another step closer and security will have an awful time reading your lips.” 

“Masterful performance,” he said bluntly when he was in position. “Maybe not entirely a show, which makes it all the more convincing. Why?” 

“I have my own little games to play, Bruce, not all of them involve you,” she said, half a smile showing in the changed tension of skin around her eyes. “At least a third of that little display was for my father’s benefit, as of course he’ll be curious how you took out a good portion of my security with no fuss. I imagine Mr. Luthor will also be annoyed with how easily you infiltrated the building.” 

“Common-source headsets,” Bruce said. He could give information for good information, and what she had said about Clark confirmed several of his suspicions. “Your firm left their earpieces on standard settings. Easy enough to hack in and play a bit of audio feedback that will incapacitate the guard.” 

“Technology,” she said, shaking her head. “Just as I understand a piece of it, all of it has changed. A good story, though, very good piece for the puzzle. As for why put on a show… sometimes it is better to look weak, hm? Not all of us can stand on the rooftops with the dramatic cape and let people call to us with lights in the sky.” 

“If you did want to leave…” 

“Oh, do not look so put-upon and think I am some sad little damsel,” she said with an expansive roll of her eyes. “My situation is not so dire as that. I simply prefer it when men like my father and Mr. Luthor think they know of my weaknesses. Your friend, though… she wanted emotion, and there she had it. She would not come here just to gloat and Superman has been worried for her. I think no woman could walk away from someone who looks at her with those eyes. A man might, perhaps, if he thought that he would lose power for having a woman look at him so.” 

“You know that I’m… I’m not interested in you, Talia. What we had is over.” 

“Yes, I know.” She huffed out a breath. “Once perhaps, I would have thought you were leading me around, as other men have done. Or maybe that you were saying it to hurt me, or to deny yourself, because denial can grow strong roots. It would have made me sad, which would have made me angry, for I am not so good with calming the emotions. But I know, now, that you and I are not a love story so much as a tale of what might have been if we were different people.” 

Maybe Bruce should have said those words to her years ago, no matter how odd the timing had seemed. He wasn’t any better with emotion, probably. The best response he had to that outpouring of emotion was a nod. 

Somehow, that left Talia smiling at him as she lowered the handkerchief. She took a step closer, likely blocking her mouth from the camera using his shoulder. “We will hold out for love as we are, yes? Until then… pretending I have little hearts in my eyes when I see you keeps my father occupied and not thinking of finding suitors for me, and perhaps it stays the hand raised against you one time in four. I am not heartbroken when he thinks to keep you alive as a potential father to little heirs.” 

“Potential?” 

Talia nodded. “He doesn’t know about Damian. However you removed him so well from Gotham, he suspects that you fooled him with a clever ruse only. Our son is safe for now. He had horrifying suspicions that Superman would sire a fitting heir but has been persuaded again that you would suit better. I had planned to call you to retrieve Superman after getting my father out of the building.” 

“Worse reasons to be kept alive,” he said thoughtfully. He could think of any number of reasons that other opponents had given him. 

“The same could be said for your friend.” Talia shifted back slightly, just enough to see his face. “Technology, mostly, that is ill-understood. A legacy of the prior executive. Threats against Miss Lane that have proved minimally useful since she vanished from our sight. Of course, you know the place by descriptions he would have logged somewhere, and now my appeal to your emotions has failed, so I will be sad again,” she said very calmly. “But I was crying before, so now I will be angry, and you will find the sixth sub-basement very intriguing. The guards never rotate the passcode, so it is DEMON by standard touch-code on telephones. Cutting power to the containment cell should work quite well.” 

“And as I’m stoic and in denial, this would be the part where I walk away looking like nothing happened,” he said as the safe reply. The more he thought he knew about Talia al Ghul, the less he understood. 

She half-turned, finding her mark perfectly as she hurled the handkerchief to the ground. He could see the glint of the camera that would catch her expression and lose her lips behind the fall of her hair. “Precisely,” Talia said with a regal nod even as her face twisted into a scowl. “Now go downstairs and get him out of there. Your friend has been here long enough, I should think. Good day.” 

She flounced away from the balcony without waiting for a response, looking every inch a furious young woman still unused to not having her way, and he stormed back to the Oracle-maintained dead zone with the expression that Dick swore was not neutral irritation so much as it was emotional obstipation. Maybe he didn’t understand Talia’s game, but just this once, he didn’t think it would do any harm to play along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Talia is a fascinatingly complicated character and I think she’s a frequent victim of The Plot and/or The Writer Requires A Hero/Villain/Mystery. It makes it harder to decide just how she would react. While I was trying to puzzle out her motivations I came across[this](http://goodcomics.comicbookresources.com/2016/06/29/comic-book-questions-answered-where-did-batman-take-ras-al-ghul-after-he-first-defeated-him/%0A) and knew I had to give Talia room to make her own choices. _
> 
> _(If nothing else, the comic scans in the link feature Ra’s al Ghul and Batman having a shirtless sword fight in the desert. Yes I am serious, yes you know you want to see for yourself.)_


	4. Containment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I actually spent several minutes debating practicalities of a gadget used in this chapter before realizing I_ can _justify having an unusual item available for a specific circumstance. Thanks Batman!_

Lois fidgeted with her earpiece while she waited for Batman. Talia was more of a wildcard now than she had been in their planning session on the jet. From what Lois could gather, Talia was sometimes an active schemer with her own goals, frequently a willing participant in her father’s schemes, and occasionally a reluctant participant in plots that she would rather avoid. With Talia acting as a CEO and Clark possibly kept in her own building, they had thought that it was her call. Lois didn’t like being left to hope that Talia wouldn’t hold the miscalculation against them. 

The earpiece was some new invention out of the Batcave. It was a slim black device made from some flexible black polymer that fit around the entire outer curve of her ear. It had a small piece that extended forward over her cheekbone like a misplaced microphone. According to Batman’s explanation, the forward portion’s flat black lens was a camera that should allow Oracle to guide Lois’s movements through the building. 

A soft click sounded directly in Lois’s ear when she finally maneuvered the thing into a mostly-comfortable position. 

_This is Oracle checking in,_ Barbara said calmly. _Nod if you can hear me, please._

Lois tried a quick nod to be sure the thing was in place and straightened when the earpiece didn’t budge. She stuck with the fully uncreative ‘check one two three’ when prompted for a microphone check.

 _Perfect. Batman just checked in and Talia is helping us out. You’relois headed to the sixth subbasement so I hope you’re up on your cardio._

As if any investigative nosy reporter wouldn’t be, Lois thought. She allowed herself a small smile when she nodded again and followed Oracle’s directions to the nearest staircase that would reach the subbasement complex. Lois kept her right hand curled around her grandmother’s briefcase. The strap was starting to bite into her left shoulder but there wasn’t a thing in that case she would leave behind. Even the kryptonite in its lead box was staying, as heavy as it was, because Clark had left it for her. 

Oracle added brief updates in between calling turns and distances. No single staircase went all the way down to their goal level so Lois would have to deal with whatever surprises Luthor had added to the hidden levels. Lois carefully avoided the dark floor tiles of the fourth subfloor on Oracle’s advice. Lois could hear faint echoes of Dick adding commentary in the background and it seemed that he knew about Luthor’s tricks from experience. Oracle’s voice was the only one clear enough to hear, however, and Lois preferred the brusque narration while she paced. Bruce was taking the elevator to make his far showier entrance. Lois was left pacing the staircase landing between the fifth and sixth subbasement until Batman had Ra’s in sight. 

With Oracle guiding her path, Lois quietly crossed intersections of wide corridors. Most of the hallways looked annoyingly generic- high ceilings, plain beige walls, off-white tile. She could hear voices in the distance, Bruce’s gravel barely audible below the louder voice that was probably Ra’s, but she was listening for Clark’s voice in between Oracle’s instructions. One hallway where sounds echoed with the most clarity was lit with red bright enough to make Lois’s eyes smart.

The circuit breaker down a dimmer hallway tried Lois’s patience. The alcove was lit with red lighting and just large enough for the broad panel of switches with no fuse in sight. She wanted to throw all the switches and deal with the consequences. From the louder background noise during Barbara’s advice, Dick felt the same. Caution won, however, as strange as that felt. Oracle saw the concealed panel and told Lois where to find the catch. Lois’s fingernail caught in a panel that slid away to show a keypad. Lois carefully typed 3-3-6-6-6 into the raised keys after letting Oracle recite the code twice.

The recessed red lights around the edges of the circuit breaker switched to green. Lois flipped the switch labeled ‘Containment’ and could only barely hold herself from sprinting down the hall Oracle told her to try. 

Lois made herself move slowly and quietly. The voices were getting louder as she drew closer to the hall that had previously been red. 

The circuit breaker had been surrounded by a purely green LED glow. The green illumination in this corridor was nothing so benign. It was a darker, shifting green that Lois had only seen when she stared at the kryptonite Clark had left for her. 

She could barely hear Oracle’s muttered ‘scanning, wait a minute’ over the ringing in her ears. She was so angry that it was difficult to resist the urge to march toward those voices and slap Ra’s al Ghul across his stupid face. The bars of the cell looked like it had been made of steel that some maniac had studded with enough kryptonite to illuminate the entire cell and the hallway.

Bruce would probably pay her bail and maybe he’d put in a good word with the Secret Service if Lois slapped President Luthor as a second act. 

“You should be able to open the door,” Oracle said calmly. “Try the same code.” 

Lois stalked forward. Through the bars, she could see Clark curled in the center of the room. He was facing away from the door and mostly covered with his cape. The entire perimeter of the room had been edged in the red lights; Lois could still feel the heat from the lamps near the hall. She stared at the red cape left murky and muddled by the green lighting the room and didn’t breathe until she saw his shoulders move. 

The keypad on the cell’s door wasn’t hidden. It seemed to have its own power source judging by the little red LED that bled its light onto her hand. She typed the same code in again. 3-3-6-6-6. 

The tiny LED changed to green. She pulled the door open and frowned at the floor-to-ceiling panel of bars with its offensive pieces of glowing green rock. She dropped her bag to the ground to hold the door open and trusted that Oracle would speak up if she saw something of note. 

Lois knocked on the cell’s bar. Steel and kryptonite wouldn’t harm her. 

“Hey,” she said quietly. She would not admit that her voice cracked. Oracle wouldn’t either, Lois expected, because her earpiece had caught a choked-sounding gasp. 

That wouldn’t do. Lois stepped forward and made sure to let her footfalls sound. “Superman, no time for sleeping on the job,” she said. The more familiar pattern of teasing the superhero let her put more strength into the words. “Let’s get you out of here, okay? Step three of the grand escape plan is getting you into the hallway.” 

He shakily pushed himself off the floor. Lois resolutely ignored the pallor in his face and the tremor in his arms in favor of dropping to one knee to give him a hand up. If she focused, she could pretend that Clark was humoring her or having a particularly excellent day of playing at human strength. 

His gaze focused on her when she slid her right shoulder under his left. “Lois?” 

“You bet,” she replied. “Let’s get you out of this hellhole then I’ll tell you more, okay?” 

Every one of the walls was studded with kryptonite. The ceiling was, as well, and Lois was starting to wonder what was beneath the dull matte black of the floor. She was suspecting lead and then maybe more kryptonite, and wondering if she could get two hits in on Luthor, because all of the walls had lamps and lights set in place that had probably been the cause of the flares of red. 

She hauled his left arm around her shoulders and helped them keep balance while he shakily got back to his feet. He was heavy, still, but even now he didn’t feel that much heavier than a human man she was hauling around. She kept her eyes on the door and angled their passage through to make sure that not one bit of green would touch him. She crossed the hall for good measure before guiding them back down to the ground. 

“Sit here a minute,” she said. When Lois was relatively sure that he wouldn’t slump right onto his face, she walked back to her bag. She begrudgingly let the cell door close quietly after snatching her grandmother’s bag away from the awful thing. She felt better when she could drop back to the floor to rummage through the bag for Bruce’s other addition to her inventory. 

“Batman thought you might need a boost,” Lois said as she set the device on the ground. It looked like a camping lantern, almost, if camping lanterns were sleek and detailed with black on top of black. “He also said that this would probably draw a lot of attention but he hoped that afterward you’d be able to deal with it.” 

Lois had never been so grateful for industrial-style halogen lighting. In the faint yellow cast of the hallway’s lights, Clark’s eyes were properly blue again and his cape was a proper red instead of mottled indefinable maroon. 

“Well, it’s his gadget,” Superman said with a half-smile. “He’s just arguing with Ra’s to buy us time. He wouldn’t mind an excuse to turn that into a proper fight.” He leaned forward carefully to glance at the lantern. “If this does what I think, you should stand behind me.” 

Lois held her tongue when Superman managed to stand up without a bit of help from her. In better light, she couldn’t figure out how to reconcile the way she always teased Superman with the way she always pestered Clark. “If you insist,” she managed as some kind of compromise. She did move back-to-back with him. Feeling smaller than his broad shoulders was a familiar comfort. 

On a last instinct, remembering that Bruce’s gadget was a lantern, Lois closed her eyes. A moment later, she was very glad that she had. With her eyes shut she still flinched back against Clark at the sudden burning radiance. The light died away seconds later, leaving Lois to remind herself that she must have only felt the reflections, and a moment after that she opened her eyes. 

The corridor looked dimmer as she blinked the dark spots away from her vision but Superman was visibly brighter and already standing straighter. She threw her arms around him and wouldn’t be embarrassed no matter who noticed her hugging her friend. “I was worried,” she said on an exhale. She knew he would hear. 

“I’m glad my advice helped. I- um-”

Lois smiled up at Superman. Maybe he was just as confused. Clark had always been rather tongue-tied around her when she turned on the charm. Superman had been the one to flirt so casually she could never quite figure out if it meant she was special or if it meant he had charisma coming out the ears. “Want to talk after we sort out bad guy of the week?” 

Superman nodded. “Good plan. Are you coming with me to finish this?” 

“I’ll hang back for the part where you and Batman tell Ra’s to get out of your city,” Lois said after a moment. As satisfying as it would be to deck Ra’s al Ghul, that would not help with Batman’s goal of getting the man out of the country. It was hard to press charges for kidnapping a hero without admitting weaknesses on the stand.

“Welcome back, Superman,” Oracle said through Lois’s earpiece. She didn’t raise her voice and Lois silently thanked her for the consideration. “I’m not sure how Batman planned to finish the confrontation with Ra’s but perhaps you and Ms. Lane could stay put for a few seconds. Nyssa al Ghul is on her way down with Talia.” 

“I am not going to miss that,” Lois replied immediately. “We’ll just stay back. I have the feeling Ra’s is going to be distracted.” 

For the first time since Oracle directed her to the staircase, Lois felt like she was on a proper sort of infiltration. She and Clark crept forward toward the corner until they could see the shadows. Batman’s silhouette was pleasingly easy to make out. To cap off the feeling that she was finally back on familiar ground, she tucked Batman’s lantern back into her bag and took out a notepad and her lucky pen. She labeled the first available page and cheerfully scrawled a fast update in shorthand for Clark about Talia’s contributions. In a fit of good temper, Lois noted that she hadn’t come across a single ninja minion on her way down and posited that might have been Talia’s influence. 

Nyssa and Talia arrived together. Lois wasn’t sure at all what to make of Nyssa but the two sisters had some sort of accord. When Talia started talking, she didn’t have to fight her sister to interrupt the two men. 

“Father, this has gone on long enough,” Talia announced. Her voice rang so beautifully through the large open space that Lois thought she must have rehearsed. “It was one thing when you said that no one would notice, but clearly that is untrue. We both agreed that it would suit the family’s goals for me to act as the executive for LexCorp.” 

“We’ll leave aside the fact that you’ve accomplished not much of notice beyond using Luthor’s technology,” the new arrival added in a lazy drawl of words. “You don’t even know what part of Luthor’s magic or technology caused such difficulties in Luthor’s foe. Worse, you accomplished nothing of note beyond making a new enemy for our organization.” 

“Nyssa. Talia. I would hope that neither of you has an issue if I want to leave with my friend,” Batman said flatly. 

“If you don’t publicize where he was held I suppose that would be enough of a favor,” Talia said. When the whisper of her leather sandals sounded, her shadow moved close enough to Batman’s that Lois could see the dramatic toss of her hair. “If you hadn’t been so rude, at least, to come here with that reporter woman.” 

“That ‘reporter woman’ is the one that realized where Superman was being held,” Batman replied. “I would be negotiating with her about publicity.” 

“Perhaps I can negotiate as the uninvolved party,” Nyssa interjected. “Talia called me days ago to make an arrangement but I didn’t realize just how ridiculous Father’s plan was this time.” She turned away from her father to look directly at Batman. “Father thought this Superman had some sort of talisman or totem that granted him such power. Clearly he was mistaken. If you and your allies are willing to not point fingers at Talia or LexCorp, I will transport him back to one of his own territories. Father, it’s been quite long enough since you stopped at a Lazarus pit. Come with me and we’ll get you back in shape, hm? It’s no fun trying to take control if all you can do is kidnap Batman’s friend.” 

“This isn’t the desert, Ra’s.” Batman turned toward the man, cape flaring behind him even with the subtle motion. “Metropolis isn’t your city.” 

“There’s your cue,” Lois said under her breath as she nudged gently with her elbow. If Ra’s hurt Superman again she might personally kick the Demon’s Head up his ass. She watched intently as Superman moved forward with a dramatic billowing of his own cape. She wasn’t sure how both of them used capes to such effective drama in the still air of a sub-basement but Clark was dang well going to teach her before the next Daily Planet gala. 

No one spoke as Superman stepped forward to Batman’s side. Lois took a step forward herself. The four people in front of her would still have a hard time seeing her if she dove backward, but until they bothered looking her way, she had a wonderful view of Ra’s al Ghul looking very pale at the sight of Superman looking strong and whole. 

Lois had never been able to picture it. She’d seen pictures of the Justice League together, and Superman had kind things to say about Batman the few times he’d come up, but she had never been able to picture Superman as friends with Gotham’s famously reclusive and dour protector. Coverage of Batman always painted him as a needlessly violent and secretive man with a strange habit of young sidekicks that came and went with very little fanfare. People worried about the first Robin and quite a few didn’t believe he had matured into Nightwing. There was a loud contingent that felt that the first Batgirl had been unceremoniously booted from the Batfamily because Batman was sexist. None of those points fit a man that could be good friends with Superman. 

Both of them in the light showed a strange balance. Batman preferred the dark to protect his identity and family as well as the people in trouble. He did his best to get nasty pieces of work like the Joker off the street even as he didn’t kill. The Joker and the rest of the Gotham crowd were just the type to attack teenage girls and then break out of Arkham after the court again decided the criminal was unable to stand trial. 

Superman fought in the light. He used both of his identities to hide the other. Most of his opponents were natural disasters and disasters like Lex Luthor. He could never trust someone that didn’t care about humanity just as much as his parents. The world seemed to trust Superman’s judgment in everything but friends, it seemed, and maybe sometime Lois would write a column about that without giving away her personal stake in the world giving Batman a chance. 

Lois couldn’t see Ra’s past the wall of shoulders and capes. Whatever he replied, it didn’t have the same authority as his earlier statements, and she couldn’t make out a word. From the way he spun on his heel and walked back toward the elevators with Nyssa, however, she guessed that the situation had resolved itself. 

_And clear,_ Oracle said. _I’ll update the League that Superman is safe. You are a pleasure to work with, Ms. Lane._

“Likewise, Oracle,” Lois replied. “No offense taken if I take this thing off of my ear now? It pinches a bit.” 

_None at all,_ Barbara promised. _I’ll note that for the next prototypes._

Lois yanked the earpiece away with much too little consideration for the expensive bit of equipment. Batman was a billionaire, he could handle her shoving the earpiece into the heeled shoe near the top of her satchel. 

Talia was having a quiet talk with Batman and Superman when she approached. The conversation ended with nods all around, whatever they had said, so Lois felt a little braver in offering her hand. “Ms. Head? My apologies for the misunderstanding,” Lois said. She smiled when Talia accepted the handshake. “If you’re ever in the market for fair publicity, I’d love to contact you for an interview. The Daily Planet will cover the cost of supper if we get the chance to write a profile for the new LexCorp CEO.” 

Talia looked Lois over in a single sweeping gaze before nodding. “Even-handed, I would think? Not some despicable fawning piece.” 

“Of course,” Lois said. She offered a business card and pretended not to feel a thrill of victory when Talia tucked the card into a jacket pocket. “No strange rumors about sub-basements, either, but your office would make a beautiful setting to describe for readers not lucky enough to see your redecoration personally. So far all anyone’s had access to is pictures of the lobby.” 

“I’ll call you in a few days, I think.” Talia glanced toward Batman. “Perhaps things will be more settled soon. For now, though, I haven’t the time to look after anything but LexCorp.” 

Lois wouldn’t put words to the moment that passed between Talia al Ghul and Batman. She just wondered what prompted Talia to send their nine-year-old child to Bruce’s custody after years without giving a hint that he was a father, then set aside those thoughts with musings about how many of Bruce Wayne’s parties required Batman’s intervention and how quickly the man could manage a costume change. Some things had to stay off the record. 

Talia left without another word to any of them, leaving behind only the faint scent of a flowery perfume. 

Lois was left in LexCorp’s sixth sub-basement with two of the world’s finest heroes. “I don’t know about either of you, but I’m planning on taking the elevator up. Superman, if you think that you are flying on your own speed, I will call someone that will make you think otherwise.” 

“I’d listen to her,” Batman said all too mildly. “She’s the one that told the homestead you were missing.” 

As Superman’s expression abruptly became Clark’s familiar look of horrified realization, Lois giggled and shoved her bag toward him. 

“Just to be nice, though, I’ll let you carry this for me.” Lois’s shoulder ached, her back ached, and all she really wanted was a couple cheeseburgers and a very hot shower. 

Even as Superman shouldered the bag, Lois remembered the kryptonite and reflexively tried to grab it back. “Your- ah- note. It’s still in there.” 

“It’s fine,” he promised quietly as they walked toward the elevator. “Wonder Woman sealed it for me. She said I was being ridiculous and there were less dramatic ways to tell you.” 

“I had a hard enough time figuring it out on my own,” Lois said firmly. She hit the elevator button with the star and ‘Lobby’ label with more force than necessary. She wasn’t about to have Clark feel guilty for not telling her. If she refused to feel guilty for missing Clark’s secret identity, then she couldn’t have him taking the blame for being a better liar than anyone had ever guessed. “I only put it together because we spend all sorts of time together no matter which of your shirts you’re wearing.” 

“I own more than two shirts,” Clark protested. 

Batman had been doing a marvelous job of pretending he wasn’t standing in an elevator with them during an emotionally charged talk. At that, however, he glanced toward Clark just as Lois automatically looked to the other observer for support. 

“You’re going to need to prove that,” Lois and Batman said together. 

Clark looked from Lois to Batman and then back to Lois again. “Ra’s might actually be less trouble than you two being friends.” 

Batman looked unmoved. Lois wasn’t great at stoicism even on days when Clark wasn’t safe and alive and away from Ra’s al Ghul and Luthor’s nonsense. “Quite possibly,” Lois agreed. “Really, though, I’d be more worried about people back at the homestead. I haven’t met them in person yet but I really think we’ll get along just fine.” 

Even Batman cracked a smile at the look on Superman’s face. Lois awarded herself a bonus point and walked through LexCorp’s lobby with two of the world’s finest superheroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I have too many feelings about Lois Lane and superheroes in general to get them all dealt with in one story. This story is ~~rapidly developing~~ developed a prequel that details just how Lois figured out Clark’s secret identity. There are also a few loosely related ideas including one where Barbara Gordon and Jason Todd start to understand each other a little better._


	5. Homestead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Superman’s parents deserve much more credit than they get even in this chapter. Also Clark definitely learned trolling from a master, even if his mom prefers[weapons-grade guilt trips](https://comicnewbies.com/2014/05/18/supermans-mom-has-a-crush-on-green-lantern/) over convenient alibis._

Lois had been known for years that she would have to meet Clark’s parents eventually. At first she had resisted because there were very few things that would motivate her to visit Kansas and spending time in a family home wholesome enough to raise Clark was not about to lure her to the heartlands. After that, she’d been convinced that his parents would think she was exactly the kind of rude city woman that nice boys like Clark should avoid. Shortly after that, Lois had started to realize that she had a definite crush on Superman even while she thought Clark might be flirting with her, and she was not the kind of woman to string a man along. Visiting parents in Kansas had definitely felt like she would give too much hope for grandchildren. 

Sitting at Martha Kent’s table, however, Lois was very willing to admit that she had been wrong. She should have accepted the invitation to stop by Kansas sometime. If she had been visiting all along, she would have had much more delicious food in her life. 

“Thank you, Cassie,” Lois said when the shy girl edged another slice of blueberry pie across the table. 

Bruce’s son Damian had been staying with the Kents. The farmhouse was also hosting Bruce’s other ward, Cassandra Cain. Bruce hadn’t been sure about sending Damian with his attitude and Cassandra with her aggressive reflexes to the Kents but Mr. and Mrs. Kent had absolutely insisted. Lois was pretty sure that Cassandra at least would be back to visit the Kents. Damian was mildly appeased to look over blueprints with Clark and Mr. Kent and talk about integrity of load-bearing walls but he was furious when expected to help with washing the dishes. Cassie, meanwhile, was thrilled that no one expected her to say more than a few words at a time. Even better, Lois guessed, everyone made a conscious effort to not startle her, and she was quite adorable accepting compliments.

Bruce had flown Lois and Clark to Smallville before turning the jet around and heading straight back to Metropolis. By the time he reappeared at the farm two days later, it seemed that Luthor’s sub-basement had gone through a renovation and Lex was now short a significant amount of kryptonite and red sun lights. Talia passed along a letter for Damian to accompany a flash drive of files. She could only find traces of the conversation but it looked as if Lex Luthor had goaded Ra’s into stealing the source of Superman’s power. Talia had highlighted a long list of ideas that Lex had sent along about just how Superman might be lured into a trap. Lois again wanted to punch the president but thought she might have to let Martha get in the first hit. 

Clark was (of course) mildly scandalized that Lois and Martha had deceived most of the Daily Planet with stories about Martha’s broken hip. From the way he and his father worked at making the porch more stable and fixed several loose floorboards through the home, however, Lois figured that Clark would feel a little more honest when he told their coworkers about all the fixes he’d made to the farmhouse. Damian certainly looked pleased to boss Superman around and hold the toolbox. Martha had even taken several pictures to coo over later. 

Diana spent a lot of time keeping Damian on task with schoolwork and letting Damian and Cassie work together to spar against her out in a field where the three wouldn’t do much damage. Lois was trying to work up the right angle to let Wonder Woman know that the women of the world needed a far different service than the Justice League usually offered. She and many other women really, really wanted to know what kind of supportive undergarments she and Starfire and several other ladies used to have a crazy amount of lift and staying power while flying upside down. Invisible jet nothing, Lois wanted to know if someone from the Justice League would start a lingerie company with her. Instead they mostly talked about mutual friends. Lois would definitely settle for talking about Batman and Superman with Wonder Woman until they got to know each other a little better.

Lois didn’t pretend she would have privacy for calling Perry. Bruce and Diana were feigning that they weren’t lurking in the area to listen in. Martha Kent had settled right at the table and was quietly showing Cassie how to peel potatoes with a paring knife in one long spiral of skin. Lois opened her notebook right at the kitchen table and turned her cell phone on for the first time in eleven days. 

Predictably, her voicemail box was filled and she had forty-six text notifications. She had managed to warn Jimmy she was going off-grid or it would have been worse. She dialed Perry and wondered what her unsubtle audience thought. Only a couple of them would hear the entire conversation. 

“Hey Perry, Lane checking in. Mmhm. Yes, I’m aware it’s been almost two weeks, but it turns out that I pissed off a Batman villain. Of course I’m serious.” She paused for Perry’s usual threats of lost jobs and docked final paychecks. “Can I be un-fired with enough scoops? If I’m actually fired this time, I could talk with Action Bulletin News or return all those calls from the Herald. All old news? I think I could get in with the Gotham Gazette.” Lois waved off concerned frowns from Clark’s parents. They weren’t used to her frequent song and dance with Perry. If Lois and Perry showed actual concern for each other they might threaten normal function of the entire paper. 

She let Perry have a minute to disparage all of the competing papers before bringing out the bait. “Okay. First off, Superman is okay. Long story better suited for an article but I am not your girl for this one. I was too involved and this is me telling you. I’ll sit for an interview, you could probably have someone coax Big Blue into a statement, but trust me. This one isn’t my style.” 

Lois wasn’t about to tell the entire story, of course, but she’d made peace with that years before. She would not tell the public Superman’s weaknesses. He had told her once that his friends knew how to take him down if he was going to hurt people. That left very little need for John or Jane Q. Public to haul kryptonite around in their pockets. She thought the mildly adapted and heavily abridged version would do well with Jimmy.

Clark’s reaction gave it away long before Lois’s restrained cough. “Well, sure,” Lois agreed slowly. She looked to Clark. He shrugged. She shrugged and rolled her eyes before responding. “You’d probably have to lean on Kent to make him put aside that piece he was working on, though, the city council issue is more time-limited and he’ll be just coming off an unscheduled leave.” 

That would be Clark’s issue, she decided cheerfully. She couldn’t be the only person having a sudden difficulty integrating their professional and personal lives. “Mmhm. Well, I think I could keep busy. I managed to meet Talia Head in passing—yes Head the LexCorp CEO—and I think a one-on-one interview would definitely make up for getting scooped about the architecture of her lobby. I also maybe met a couple people I can lean on about interviewing Bruce Wayne. If Talia’s in, then Wayne might agree just to counter whatever exposure LexCorp gets.” 

Both of them knew Lois was forgiven, of course, and she and Perry knew that her choices had been dangerous long before she befriended Superman. Perry waited long enough to satisfy the probable eavesdroppers back at the Planet before demanding that they would be meeting in his office first thing Monday morning. 

“You got it, boss.” Lois disconnected the call and double-checked that it was ended before speaking. “Well, work is going to be fun, but we have another couple days before Clark’s writing an article about Superman,” she said cheerfully before snagging Clark by the elbow. “We’re going to go talk logistics.” 

“Thanks,” Clark muttered as the whispering and giggles broke out behind them. 

Lois knew he could hear all of them anyway but the illusion seemed to help. “Anytime, partner.” She stopped on the porch to look over the property. Clark had already given her the tour, talking about some of the trouble he’d caused as a kid, so she knew a couple places wouldn’t do for their talk. She also wanted less chance of eavesdropping. She carefully stepped onto his toes. It was easier to manage when he was wearing work boots instead of his red-and-blues. “Roof of the barn?” 

Flying with Superman was always a thrill. It was just still a rush when she knew he was Clark and he was wearing worn-in jeans and yet another red flannel shirt with blue accents woven into the plaid. The glasses were stranger than the outfit, at least against the backdrop of the sky, but she doubted she would have much chance to see Clark flying outside of the uniform. 

He touched them down gently on the roof. The large barn had a roof finished in plain wooden shingles above the gleaming fresh coat of red paint. “Watch your step,” he said as she tried to find a good place for her feet. “The shingles up here get a little loose.” 

She shifted carefully to try to find a more stable place before giving that up as a bad job. Clark could catch her if she fell, of course, but she didn’t need any extra excitement. She sat on the peak of the roof instead and waited while Clark settled next to her. 

Lois was tempted to just start talking business like this was any other day. She held back that instinct mostly because he looked nervous. He had looked uncomfortable every time she pushed their talk back in the week before he vanished. This was different. She could wait him out why he tried to put his thoughts together.

“I know you have questions,” he said finally. He looked out over the fields for a moment before turning back to her. “Lots of them. Instead of just trying to explain everything, I thought it might be better to let you ask. I promise I’ll be honest with the answers.” 

Clark kept meeting her eyes for a second, maybe two, before looking away again. She did her best to banish her reporter-on-the-hunt face but she had a lot more mileage for that expression than concerned-friend. As she chose her question, though, she abruptly changed tactics and fixed him with her best dodge-the-question-at-your-peril reporter-glare before speaking. “We haven’t had much time to talk since we left LexCorp. Are you okay?” 

He relaxed all at once. He had been trying to hide his nerves but Lois thought he had regretted his promise of honesty the moment he’d given it. “I’m fine, I promise,” he said quietly. “The League has a few people we talk things like this out with. The fact that you found me, though… I never wanted you to be in danger but I was so glad to see you.” 

Lois scooted closer to nudge her shoulder against his bicep. “You gave me a heck of a lead. I told you I’d take my grandmother’s bag and not much else if I had to run, you left me kryptonite and Batman. What happened?” 

“I didn’t know it was Ra’s at first. He had several of his men fighting, all ganging up on one, and he told the last man that if he yelled for help his honor might be restored. I think I got there in time to save him, but I’m not sure.” He took off his glasses and worked at some spot invisible to her vision. “Part of me feels guilty. I know Bruce would have told me if someone had needed me for something big, but I feel like I shouldn’t have been caught at all. I should have figured out it was a trap.” 

“Ra’s has magic, too,” Lois said. She followed his lead and looked out over the fields. “I know how fast you can text now, though. Next time you’re chasing down something weird, you can send me an update. I know people that can upgrade security on my phone or we can go the old-fashioned route and make a code.” 

“You’re okay, though.” 

“I am fine,” she promised. “Ra’s did send some of his people to poke around my apartment but I snuck out wearing that awful trench coat I kept around as a disguise. Ninja fashion sense is bad enough that most of them didn’t notice that I paired a trench coat with a big floppy hat.” 

Clark’s eyebrows abruptly went way up. He carefully slid his glasses back into place. “You know, I think most people would be more worried about ninjas casing their apartment.” 

“I was trouble before I ever met you, Clark, don’t take all the credit,” she chided. “Backstory later, though. The day after you went missing, I realized that I hadn’t seen anything from the Justice League and none of the news channels were showing anything. I maybe hacked into your Daily Planet account to get your mother’s contact number, she has her information pretty well locked down. When I called her she was worried and the two of us came up with the story about the broken hip. I sent a few e-mails in your name, she called, and it was all set by lunch.” Lois pretended not to realize she was using one of her best strategies against Clark’s inner fuss-budget. Presented with enough things worthy of criticism at a high enough rate of speed, his Midwestern politeness usually lost a valuable moment in deciding which to address first. Lois pounced with another question before he could decide just what was most in need of discussion. “Next question. Are you ready to head back to Metropolis tomorrow?” 

“I should be. I’m going to stop by the Watchtower tonight to meet with J’onn in person. We don’t want to find out the hard way that Ra’s left something in here,” Clark said, tapping his temple for emphasis. 

“Good.” Lois would save her curiosity about the Watchtower for at least another week. If there were space-ninjas she wanted to sleep in her own bed several times before dealing with them. “I think I only have one other question for now. Would it be more polite if I pretended I didn’t know? You didn’t get to choose whether or not I’d get involved.” 

“I would never want to leave you out, Lois. I couldn’t decide how I should tell you. First it was too early, then you were too important to me… I’ve never really told anyone that met Clark Kent first.” He pushed his glasses back up before continuing. “It took a few team-ups before Bruce and I started trusting each other and most of the League prefers to keep identities secret.” 

Lois elbowed him lightly enough to not hurt herself. “Remember that day I was yelling at Perry about the cover photo on my story? That’s when I realized that I knew. The picture was at a different angle from Jimmy’s and just made me realize that it’s how I saw you. Clark-you. I was so angry with myself for not realizing and with you for not telling me. I knew that any conversation would just be one-sided yelling and in my more charitable moments I knew you didn’t deserve that.” 

“I had my suspicions but then you were mad at me as Superman, too. For what it’s worth, though, I always trusted you. I trust you with my life.” He looked tempted to stand up and pace but shifted position instead. He was so careful that not one of the shingles creaked. “I kept thinking that telling you might put you in even more danger. You’re so fearless but I just kept knowing that you don’t have to just worry about kryptonite and magic. I don’t ever want you to get hurt. If you were hurt because of me…” 

Lois wrapped her arm around his back. “I love my job, Clark,” she said as he carefully reciprocated with an arm over her shoulders. Leaning against his side was much warmer than sitting alone in the wind. “Even if I’d never met you, I would be making enemies and taking risks to get the best stories. As it is, I’m friends with you and I just ran a con with Batman where I gamed Talia into thinking that Batman and I were a thing.” 

“I don’t know Talia that well, but that sounds like a risky game. She and Bruce have a lot of history.” 

Lois smiled. “It worked out well. Even better, Talia all but agreed to an interview with me. It’s a risk, sure, but if she makes friends with me she can bother Lex and her father and get good press while she’s at it.” She thought over the words before speaking again. “I’ll do the same, though. Before I do anything especially risky, I’ll text you where I’m going. Partners need to look after each other.” 

Clark looked stunned. “We’re good?” he asked. “I mean, if we aren’t, I understand. I know that it’s a lot to take in and…” 

Lois was going to have a difficult time not overplaying her hand, she thought, but it helped to remember that Clark didn’t change that much when he changed his outfit. “We are good. We even had the talk I wasn’t ready for a couple weeks ago, where you are Superman and Clark, and I try to figure out how you are simultaneously the worst liar I’ve ever met and holding one of the biggest secrets in the world close to the vest.” 

“Ah. Practice, I guess? I try to move differently at work, there are a lot of little tricks to try looking like someone different. They ended up being habit.” He looked sheepish and relieved all at once. “If you’re okay with letting them gossip a bit longer, I thought maybe we could head into Smallville for a little. There’s this diner with the best root beer floats you’ll ever have.” 

“The one with the cheeseburgers?” Lois asked. She nodded even before he agreed. “I’m in. I’ll guess we’re going to be a little subtle about getting there?” 

He fished a ring of car keys out of his pants pocket. “I got the keys to the pickup from Pa before you called in. Figured flying there might be a bit much.” 

“Flying down is definitely not much, though,” Lois said as she held out her loose arm. She thought he might spin her around but didn’t protest when he swept her up instead. If anyone inside teased her about a bridal carry, she could blame Clark for understandable protectiveness. He landed as gracefully as always before opening the truck door and gently depositing her right in the seat. 

“That was maybe a little much, Clark, but I’ll let it go this time,” she said. Lois needed to change the topic before her mind chose to remind her volubly that she wasn’t some kind of two-timer with crushes on two different men. She had a crush on one man with dramatic outfit changes and she was changing the topic before she embarrassed herself. “Talking about your article over lunch shouldn’t be much of a shock around here, right?” 

“No shock at all.” He paused before shutting the passenger side door of the truck. “They all think I’m a workaholic who should visit my parents more. I can’t exactly let them know how often I really do visit or they’d ask how I can afford to take so much time off.” 

“They definitely wouldn’t believe that you’re getting the private jet treatment.” Lois frowned as she thought it over. “Do none of them realize that your friends occasionally land jets here?” 

“It’s not exactly a frequent occasion and country neighbors tend to not pry. None of them realized that my space shuttle crashed on the farm.” 

Lois had very foolishly thought she knew most of the story. She realized all over again that Clark wasn’t quite human and that he must have gotten to Kansas somehow. “Do you still have it?” 

“Pa hid it under the barn. I can show you later, if you want.” 

“If I—Clark, you have a spaceship and we’re going to go get root beer floats first. Before the spaceship.” She waved at the few people bold enough to be watching them from the porch. Mrs. Kent was beaming as she waved back. 

“I’ve seen a lot of spaceships. The root beer floats are better.” 

She didn’t even know where to begin addressing the very Clark statement. Instead Lois pulled her phone out of her pocket to start sorting through text messages. She sent Jimmy a brief promise she was fine and ready to get back to work. She sent her landlord an apology for the late rent and a promise that she’d pay extra, again, and help his daughter with her English homework. She would let everyone else hear from her after the hypothetically amazing diner food. 

Nearly every person in the diner immediately recognized her as Clark’s Lois. She usually was only that famous when people wanted to pester her about Superman. It was a pleasant change to be able to brag about Clark’s better days in journalism for once. The root beer float ended up bringing together root beer the bar down the street brewed in the basement with ice cream made fresh by the local ice cream parlor. It was delicious. It still wasn’t better than the poor dented space shuttle under the floor of the barn that had carried Clark all the way from Krypton. 

Turned out he also had a third name to complete the set. “Kal-El, huh? I like it." Even if she rarely had the chance to use the name, it helped hold the center while she had to think of Clark and Superman as different people to avoid chances of slipping up at work. It definitely would help her keep a straight face while Clark argued that if he wrote an article about Superman that would be a one-time event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you so much to everyone that left comments and kudos. I had this story trapped in my hard drive for over three years before finding the inspiration to put all the pieces together. The feedback really helps with finding motivation to keep working on other projects that run into snags._

**Author's Note:**

> _This story has been in progress for over three years. As such, the DC canon has fluctuated several times, and the changes have been radical enough that I give up on following official current continuity. I do my best to hold to the spirit of the characters and reserve the right to warp timelines and plot arcs to make a more entertaining story. I have a terrible habit of bonding with characters that suffer the most under abrupt resets. I'm talking Raven and Cassandra Cain levels of 'well that was unnecessary.' Comments about your particular DC heartbreak are welcome._


End file.
